


Asgore's Wars, Within, Without

by MetellaStella



Series: Anatomical Anachronisms [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alien Culture, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Mythology/Religion, Angst and Tragedy, Animals, Anthropomorphic, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Canon LGBTQ Female Character, Child Muffet, Child Undyne, Crying W. D. Gaster, Dragons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gaster Needs a Hug, Gaster puns, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Gender-Neutral Chara, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Good W. D. Gaster, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Multiple Universes Colliding, Multiverse, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Past Relationship(s), Poetry, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Accident W. D. Gaster, Pre-Canon, Puns & Word Play, Romantic Friendship, Sans Remembers Resets, Sans does NOT have a penis you guys, Science Fiction, Scientist Sans, Scientist W. D. Gaster, Soul Bond, Warrior Asgore, Worldbuilding, dragons make everything better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2018-05-31 19:10:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 33,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6484015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MetellaStella/pseuds/MetellaStella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Doctor Gaster #8 and Alphys #8 scramble to keep up with monitoring multiple timelines. Their 7 soul-empowered Asgore is fighting a defensive war with humans. Meanwhile, during Toriel's long absence, Asgore #2 had a string of temporary lovers. But none were like Gaster.</p>
<p>Alternate timeline without the KingDings pairing is up on Deviantart: <a href="http://menollysagittaria.deviantart.com/art/Prologue-Asgore-s-Wars-Within-Without-600933795">Prologue</a></p>
<p>
  <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ask-anachronistic-asgore">Ask Anachronistic Asgore.</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ask-anachronistic-gaster">Ask Anachronistic Gaster.</a>
  <br/>
  <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/ask-anachronistic-alphys">Ask Anachronistic Alphys.</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Time Tinkering

The chimera king sat in his study, shuffling papers around on his desk. He wasn't organizing them. He was moving them around for the sake of the rustle and the distraction. He was nervous.

He and his friend Gaster had been up all night many times, pouring over these very papers. Checking how monsters were doing while being confined Underground, casting out inquiries in the form of questionnaires about policies. Most of them came back blank. As long as everything was more or less peaceful, people didn't seem to care what they did. It was somehow _more_ nerve wracking not to have any feedback. How was he to know what reactions would be if . . .

He had contemplated in how many different ways his proposal could go wrong, and how many different ways it could go right. He was driving himself up the wall with this.

The soft _click_ of the door opening appeared magnified in the soundproofed room. With him completely lost in his thoughts, it might as well have been a bang.

Gaster walked in.

_In the future._

_Anachronistic Arachnid Number 8 Log  
_

_Hello all. I am Dr. W. D. Gaster. At long last, I have been recovered from the void. The multiple monsters tasked with investigating the hauntings of the Underground have some tape recordings of the strange sounds and the appearances various parts of my psyche took on. If you'd like to view them, please click the link at the bottom corner of this video. Please note that, given my splintered state, I was not always entirely conscious of some of my actions. But, I continue to study all of this, to ensure that it can never happen to anyone else, and to understand my journey better myself, as well._

_You will note that I used purple magic. You will note that I had multiple disembodied hands. Many attempts to count them were made as they appeared to phase in and out of existence, but now they know the answer. I have exactly six. Just like all other spider monsters! You will note I had no nose, either. Spiders do not have noses. My daughter Muffet is overjoyed to meet me. I've gained back my other three eyes, like her. Why did I only have two eyes in the void? Any why did I appear skeletal? Well, I'll get to that later. But the crook in the fissure in the right side of my skull was a remnant of that upper eye, second from the right._

_My wife, the Duchess, snaps all six of her hands in a clatter and chatter and says, well, at least I can give you a one person audience for your spoken word poetry again, eh, dear?_

_I love that woman to bits._

_Get it, bit, like a computer?_

_Zing!_

The graceful spider slipped in, closing the door almost as softly as he had entered it. The insomniac- Asgore forcefully stifled the triply alliterative word _insect_ from his thoughts. 'Insect' was a slur against spiders, though it did pop up in his mind sometimes. People just didn't care what the difference was.

"My Lord?" he inquired quietly. "What's on the agenda for tonight?"

At the innocence of the question Asgore almost lost his nerve with what he was going to ask.

_In the future._

_Anachronistic Arachnid Number 8 Log._

_We've almost cracked how to get the machines to retain recordings from futures. Humans have done experiments where quantum particles can be sent back in time with stored information. Alphys and I have been working tirelessly to reproduce those results. All of them have gotten garbled in translation so far, but the point is that something is coming through._

_Something that didn't exist in the 'original' past._

_Maybe I'll be able to rest my mind at last._

_Alphys calls me a pioneer_

_Her eyes shine bright and clear_

_Despite . . . oh man, about three different major things that should be bothering her but for some reason aren't. I can't make heads or tails of it._

_After some very intensive magic healing, that's taken around eight months, Frisk has been healed from their sustained trauma in the Underground. You try having your soul yanked out of you multiple times and die over and over-_

_I mean, I knew humans were powerful but this is absolutely_ ridiculous.

_The kid kind of scares me._

_No, not kind of. **Very** much._

_Anyway, without the burden of zeir trauma, ze has been able to focus on the resetting power and tweak it. Ze might be the first true time traveler, but I've warned the child again and again not to get too excited. That power takes a lot out of zem. Ze is terribly weak and feeble as soon as ze has crossed over, not to mention the time positioning is very inexact. Our situation is dire, but that pressure and responsibility does not belong on zem. Frisk. You've already done more than enough for monsterkind. That power is an absolute last resort, not a convenience to be employed whenever it strikes our fancy._

_Speaking of which, I've just had a very confounding conversation with one of my other selves, Number 2. I actually haven't had much mutual contact with him before this, he was just the second one I happened to glimpse seconds of in a trance. He's not exactly in a pocket universe, but he's also not very nearby. But then, all of our universes play by slightly different rules. He contacted me and excitedly tried to tell me that he'd found a way to avoid both the Core accident and being split apart. I'd heard this all before, and it wasn't true no matter how much he wished it were, but he was insistent._

_Sans thought re-meeting people he'd already introduced himself to was tedious? Try explaining **to yourselves** over and over your travails with time tinkering. Then talk to me about tedious._

_I've actually started recording videos of myself as sort of "required reading" before they ask me any questions. So I don't have to repeat myself so much._

_To make things more complicated, we can't actually talk in person. It's always either a mental sync in my mind, or talking to someone through a computer that we've tuned to each other's frequencies._

_When Number 17 catches up to me, he'll **wish** he had hair to tear out._

_When he was put back together, his form didn't grow his back. Heh heh heh._

_Forget the fact that I've had the debate about influencing the free will and determinism of other dimension's selves with myself in my own head, having it **literally** with myself . . . ugh._

_Well, I guess it's not **all** bad. I know myself very well, so most of the time I can predict what an objection will be, and head it off. Or, I find a new way to phrase something that works with more Doctors._

_Despite what all the personal histories and stories might influence you to think, Number 2, no one relationship can, reliably throughout **all** dimensions, alter your life's trajectory in the 'right' way. Or even turn out positively itself. Way, way too many butterflies. I wish I could munch on them as easily as literal butterflies. Stick to your own dimension, your own decisions, and don't interfere with others' lives unless you've got both really good reason and rock solid probability ratios gathered on your side. That's a lesson I've had to learn more than once._

_I **am** happy that you are happy._

_Only a little under half of the Doctors I've met are._

_I'm not sure if I'd count myself as one of them._

Asgore breathed a couple of times and swallowed. He tried to keep his voice even. "I'm been hearing rumors," he started haltingly, "that men who lose their wives in childbirth are . . . turning to each other for, eh, fulfillment."

As comprehension dawned on him, the lavender spider's blush was purple.

But in a wink, it was gone again. The man straightened and said brusquely- instead of 'blush-ly' Asgore's mind supplied- "Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, do they not?"

Asgore raised an eyebrow. That wasn't how he would've phrased it, but the spider did have a point. He tapped a couple of feline claws on his desk, thinking.

Confined in the Underground, almost everyone was paired up, and there was nowhere else to go for either suitors or prospects. As in human prisons, people were making due with what they had, though blessedly it was not a coercive arrangement as it was there. Maybe same gender schools and curiousness was a better comparison. 

Gaster wasn't one to get straight to the very heart of a matter. Usually he liked to look at it from at least two different angles, and ramble. Maybe the discomfort with the topic had prompted him to be tight lipped.

"So you don't think I should punish them?" he asked.

"My opinion does not matter, My Lord," he replied humbly. "I am merely a sounding board."

Asgore smiled at the rhyme.

"Board . . ." Gaster repeated, eyes distant.

It took the part-dragon a moment to figure out what he was remembering. A bit of wordplay from before Asriel's death drifted vaguely to his mind.

That was not a place he wanted to go, especially tonight. "I _am_ asking for your opinion, Gaster," he said a bit forcefully, to chase away the ghost.

The spider immediately reacted to the authority in his voice, though he hadn't meant to chastise him. "Well, drawing attention to them would cause a stir in the first place, wouldn't it? Letting them lie-" He paused, obviously tempted by a play on words, but seemed unsure whether that was appropriate for the situation. Or maybe he didn't even want to go there.

"-in their _beds?_ " Asgore added helpfully.

At the pun, Gaster sucked in a breath and let out a long, high baritone laugh, cradling his belly with all six hands. When he had enough air again he said, "Oh, oh, oh don't _**do**_ that to me Sire, I'm going to get a stitch." He coughed once, twice, almost regained calm, but lost it again.

The part-dragon sat back, satisfied with his mischief. He stretched languidly, claws coming out and back in again. He had noted that, often people laughed even more when uncomfortable, as if it were a defense mechanism for dealing with it. Regardless, he was glad he had finally broken the awkward tension. "Well, how am I supposed to be held responsible if you can't control yourself?" he teased.

At the statement the spider suddenly slumped his shoulders.

"What did I say?" Asgore blinked.

"It's . . . nothing, Sire," he said in a tone that clearly said the opposite of the words.

Asgore stood and walked around the desk. "What's eating you?"

"Everything eats spiders," the doctor dodged dejectedly.

Asgore _chewed_ on that sentence for a moment. Was it a dodge, a play on the more literal meaning of the phrase and a reference to his tiny relatives, or a reference to a monster spider's place in the social hierarchy? Many times the Doctor liked to be oblique or metaphorical about things.

"It's nothing," he repeated, eyes down.

When pressed, sometimes he would get defensive, so he decided to . . .

. . . he got a bit irritated when his brain filled in " _let it lie._ "

A few more minutes passed, and per usual the spider seemed to appreciate the silence. He relaxed.

Then, he said, "Your father would've punished them. But, in so many ways," he said reverently, "you are not your father. Ah-" he caught himself quickly, "and I mean him no disrespect, of course."

"Why must you always walk on eggshells, Gaster?" Asgore took a step towards him. "I thought we'd have moved past that by now."

"It befits my station," the spider replied simply.

"Your 'station' is that of my closest friend," the fire monster said warmly.

The spider's look was not quite surprised, yet not quite at ease, either. The five eyes locked with his for a few moments.

Surely that truth was past obvious? Asgore asked himself. Was it just that the spider had a hard time believing it? Even after all these years? They'd had their differences, but there was no other advisor he trusted more. Was the spider just uncomfortable hearing it aloud, with such sincerity? What was the hangup?

Maybe he was taking it too personally. The Doctor, though he stepped and spoke with grace, was bumbling in one area: sentiment.

He and Toriel, when young, had always been able to take off that proper mask of presentation when not entertaining or inspiring. They had dealt it a damaging blow, very intentionally, with the instating of the Nose Nuzzle Contest. What had started out as a much loved and much worn private joke between them evolved into something that would have scandalized their parents.

"My father . . ." He used the mask, of course. It was still important. But it seemed to be the other way around with Gaster. He was caged by it. "In some ways I wish I could be him, but in others . . ."

"Isn't it like that for everyone?" the spider managed a half-smile.

"Not _everyone_."

"Oh, so there are people out there who completely want to be carbon copies, and people who want absolutely nothing to do with their legacy? Poor souls." The spider paused, tilting his many-eyed head and then narrowing them. "I don't think I've ever encountered the former. The latter has cropped up, though, I suppose."

The royal's manticore tail twitched, almost a wag, as he chuckled. The Doctor could dance philosophical circles around him. Suddenly he had the oddest thought, that he wished the Doctor would start dancing literal circles around him.


	2. Dancing Through Time

They hadn't come to a decision that night, too caught up in their personal discussion.

A few weeks passed, and the flavor of his thoughts about the issued changed. Gaster's advice about keeping the lovers concealed had brought to the fore one stray piece of speculation from a single source amid many other advising voices. Giving legal recognition to such pairings. That would be pretty much the opposite of what the doctor offered, yet it was also a different opposite from the original choice. He smiled inwardly at the irony.

Like so many times, politics worked in more than two dimensions.

More than once the spider had eagerly constructed visual webs. Clusters of opinions and rough numbers of factions. Maybe he should start with 3D modeling, too.

He realized belatedly that the spider never had given his _actual_ opinion. Only a reason to leave them alone. He was a crafty one. _The_ crafty one. The predator laced his fingers together, paws almost going into a kneading motion. Oh, he would coax it out of him, all right.

Sitting in the light blue room, the massive monster thought about how humans had recently taken up using blue for baby boys. Rather arbitrary. He much preferred monster's choice of green. His mind drifted to when he was a boy, playing with Gaster and pinning the small spider while teasing him. Maybe if he had been nicer back then, he wouldn't be so wary of him now? But that was so long ago. He discarded the thought. That was just something all boys did. Surely it was just the manners speaking in the present.

_"You're the only one keeping my ego in check, Sire," the spider had joked occasionally._

"I'm not sure I even accomplish that, all by myself," he said aloud to the ceiling. "You have no reason to feel inferior to me, Gaster, though you always seem to anyway."

* * *

The next time they met up, he went straight to the point.

"What if I told you I had tried it?"

"Tried . . . being with a man?" He looked like a five-eyed deer in headlights.

"Yes."

"Your personal relationships are none of my business."

"Ah, come on, you don't speak to other men about-"

"No, but they _do_ speak to me," the spider said sharply. "Even when I ask them **_not_** to."

Asgore furrowed his brow, confused by the sentiment behind the words. Gaster was much more averse to this than he thought. "Well then, do you want to get back to the policy making, then?"

The spider glanced around the room. "I suppose. I don't know why you've brought this up with me, though, Sire. Typically I am more about logistics of resource distribution and business ethics. You usually leave me out of things that people can't be pretty rational about."

"Well, I'm sorry I've made you uncomfortable," the king replied.

"But, now that you've _handed_ it to me," he flashed all six hands and the king chuckled, "I of course couldn't leave it alone. I thought about something. If you were to punish them, they would also be twice punished. Bringing attention to them would expose them to hatred."

"Ah." The king hadn't thought of it that way. "Well, it's a good thing I did ask you then, isn't it?"

The spider shrugged.

Asgore stroked his beard. "Are you advocating keeping quiet to keep them safe? Or to keep the status quo?"

The spider smirked. "Oh Sire, you are very quick on the draw."

"Ha. You think that more people would try it if it became a public issue."

"Yes, and, to be honest, it should be really obvious why I'm doing this."

The king nodded. He understood.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Alright."

Now he smirked. "So, what do you think of my breaking the law?"

The normally poised man tripped over his words. "W-well, for one thing, royals are above the law regardless-" he worked his jaw, "and your father _made_ the law, not you, so you're not technically a hypocrite- and you've lost an amazing woman," he quickly looked back up and down, "n-not- I mean to say- she's left you, you were a fine partner in my estimation-"

Asgore smiled sadly. He was trying so hard not to insult either of them.

"a-and after that, I wouldn't fault you for whatever you wanted to-"

"You're making excuses for me? Is that just because it's me? What do you really think?"

"Why are you doing this?" the spider cried suddenly. "I-I've said I don't want- t-to talk about this, a-and now you're, you're what, trying to get me to speak against you?" He shrank against himself.

"I'd like to know how you'd treat others if they told you they were breaking the law secretly."

"That's none of my business either!" the spider asserted heatedly. "If I don't want to know about _your_ exploits, what makes you think I'd take the _least_ stake in others'? I just want to be left alone about all of it, man, woman, whatever! That's all I've wanted since I was young, and I thought I'd _found_ it with you," his voice petered out, barely audible by the last word.

Asgore rocked back and forth on his heels, considering. Once again he was bewildered by the odd stance. As well as how raised the normally calm doctor's voice was. Why did it upset him so much? "So, you think your partner is the only one you should converse with about it?"

"Yes. And even then it was . . . sometimes . . . irritating."

Both of the man's eyebrows raised at that. _Irritating?_ Now he was beginning to see why she-

He quickly cut off that thought. He didn't want to insult her or Gaster, either. His friend was just strange. A _good_ strange, he corrected. A strange that invented countless things, saw the world through a big perspective, could pound out verses-

Asgore stumbled through his next thoughts, ones that didn't have words. He remembered Gaster latching onto him as a boy, the careful way he measured his every sentence of his own or else drank in the prince's every word raptly. He remembered Toriel's hand on his as he watched Gaster and his wife dance at balls. Arguing which was more light on their feet and agile. Toriel favored Gaster. He recalled the way spiders always seemed to treat it as a competition as much as an embrace.

He could barely imagine moving feet and coordinating six hands in different motions. Spiders were fascinating.

Toriel's voice was in his ear and her breath on his neck, ruffling his fur ever so slightly.

And the only words that came to him were,

"They combat while they dance. I much prefer you _leading_." Her tone was deep and silken, speaking wordlessly of what they would be doing later that night.

When they had joined group dances where everyone had exchanged partners in a regular flow, he remembered dancing with the Duchess and not knowing precisely how to handle such a light partner. Yet being so intrigued by it. And again his brain was going in that same odd direction because there was a little part of him that- pouted?- over never dancing with Gaster. He was closer to him than her, after all.

"I appreciate your feeling that you could confide this in me. But do you _understand_ yet?" Gaster's weariness brought him back to the present.

"Yes, I think." Asgore shook himself a little, though he didn't move.


	3. Tiptoeing

Another handful of days later, Asgore woke up panting.

His conscious mind had been dropping hints, but his subconscious was _not_ so subtle.

He cursed inwardly. Gaster had just finished warding him off about either discussions about intimacy, and here he was, half-asleep, trying to grasp at anything, _anything_ that could drive out the images of Gaster wiggling under his grip, mouth open-

It was just the topic, he reassured himself. This wouldn't be happening if-

Still, another corner of his mind, a deeper one, emanated wordlessly that Gaster was a challenge, a code to be cracked and a submissive to be put in place.

At that, the fire monster ripped off the covers of his bed and went to go douse his face in water. No one was a _challenge_ , he bid that predatory part of himself to go back to its dream den.

It seemed to pace back and forth, taunting that _everyone_ was a challenge, not physically, but intimately or rhetorically too, just because you treat them nicely makes no difference.

His father's voice echoed to him, though he couldn't make out any phrases clearly. It was draconian, both literally and figuratively.

He bared his sharp teeth. Fine, then, he replied. A polite predator.

It fits. But it _is_ different. It makes _all_ the difference.

It licked its own chops, appeased, and drifted out.

He leaned over the water basin, breathing a bit heavy.

By the time he had put on his robes, he had blessedly forgotten most of his dream about Gaster, though the edges of it clung to his mind.

* * *

Sitting on the floor of his garden, Asgore had crossed his legs and taken up a meditative pose.

Before he closed his eyes, he reached out and brushed a yellow petal between his forefinger and thumb, knowing full well that it would bruise later. The wood elemental's own yellow fur stood on end as the tiniest bit of magic trailed from it to him. Oh, to be a flower, he thought, with not a trouble in the world. How spoiled rotten you all are, you don't even have to endure pests thanks to me.

And, you aren't even _aware_ of your crushing responsibility. That of keeping _me_ sane.

My responsibility in turn, constricts me like a serpentine body. The one thing that dominates, no matter how much of an apex predator I aspire, or do not aspire, to be.

_"Spiders couldn't keep pests out of your garden," Gaster had said, "they don't eat enough. But I believe ladybugs might?"_

_"Ladybugs are **predatory**?" the young prince asked disbelievingly. "Those silly spotted things, named after girls?"_

_The small spider grinned and glanced around. His sharp eyes spotted a spotted red bug and he darted, catching it easily. "Only in their level of the food web."_

_"Ewwwwwww," the other boy said as he crunched on it._

_"You sound like a girl when you do that," the spider said impishly. He seemed to savor the surprise and distaste for his diet, but in the future he'd appreciate even more that his friend grew used to it. "We're still top Greaters, masters of that part of the web."_

Gaster.

His huge chest expanded with a deep breath, and returned with the breath out. He repeated the gesture- gesture- gaster- he tasted the two similar words experimentally.

Greater. Gaster. Master.

Maybe his rejection of the dream had been too hasty. Gaster had said, what was it? That his wife was _sometimes_ irritating. He had enough memories of them being happy together to piece together what that meant and didn't, he thought. So dismissing it on the basis of the spider's moratorium on sexual topics was not a fully valid reason. Obviously, a partner- and perhaps a potential partner?- was his exception. That he had never gotten the slippery spider to spit out what he really felt about two men being together, now that was the stickier problem. Sticky like a web. He had plenty of clues, and a good idea, but if he continued to-

The white part-lion huffed in annoyance.

He'd _like_ to respect his friend's wishes.

After all, he'd let plenty of passing fantasies go. If he acted on every one, he'd have a lot more for the servants to gossip about.

But.

For some reason, he was not too troubled by this.

He brought to mind Gaster was sitting across from him, chatting away about his latest projects. Asgore wasn't worried that this might ruin their friendship. They had been through much worse scrapes. He would either find a way around this if it backfired, or he could make it work. He was confident.

But if he was going to . . . The master politician would have preferred to circle the topic at a distance and further measure Gaster's reaction to it, but it seemed the spider was forcing his hand. He couldn't help but picture the black suited, rail thin man grinning at him with his own pointed fangs and playing a trick, though he would have never dared.

Spiders were notorious tricksters, but the doctor had never taken an interest in that except if the king counted his slipping on solipsism and helping him against verbal opponents. That, and jokes that were word traps. Word webs. He loved setting those.

Asgore smiled.

But then he frowned. No, wait, that was sophism, not solipsism, he chided himself. The doctor was somewhat of an epistemological solipsist. But radical solipsism? Gaster _never_ would have accepted a worldview where Asgore's consciousness didn't exist.


	4. Juggling a Jacket

_ Anachronistc Arachnid Number 8 Log _

_ Asgore is adjusting well to his new form. _

_ The undersides of his wings are membranous, but the tops are feathery. _

_ Being a quadriped is a bit of an adjustment, but he’s figured out how to stand up on his haunches.  _

_ I’ve noticed the ball and socket joints of his shoulders seem to have more movement than a typical quadriped, however.  _

_ Dragons are fascinating.  _

 

Asgore had, once again, called the spider to his study.   
  
“I have a confession to make, Gaster.” 

“Yes?”   
  
“The reason I bothered you about the men pairing up.” He looked down, then walked around the desk to come up to the other man. He leaned, just far enough to exit a respectable distance. 

The spider seemed to gather that something was up.

“I’m attracted to you.”

Gaster ‘waved’ with his five eyes in a very slow rhythm, a spider’s version of concentrating pretty hard. “Um. Well. I can’t say the feeling’s mutual, Sire, but . . . if you’d like to try courting, then-”

Asgore shook his head. “Gaster, we’ve known each other since we were boys. What would be the point of courting? That’s in order to get to know someone.”

Gaster blinked. “True. The circumstances aren’t the same. Uh. So. What do you propose, then?”

Maybe the spider would be up for a little fun tonight anyway. He had never convinced another man who wasn't already interested- never thought of attempting it either, as he didn't like to press people, if he could help it- it was always him who picked up on signals and asked. Sometimes he even misread and had to backtrack, then chuckled about it later. But, there was a first time for everything. It seemed fitting that the doctor would be his 'first' in that sense.

In reply, Asgore reached out, stroked his cheek, and leaned in further. Maybe the spider would be up for a little fun tonight anyway. 

“I guess this means you are going to repeal the law?”

Haha, looked like the doctor wasn’t the romantic type. Why did that not surprise him?

“Now why would I do that? We just got done discussing letting them stay in concealment, and repealing it would have the same effects we were trying to avoid. People would start sniffing around, wondering why something suddenly changed.”

“Oh.” 

He leaned in again and kissed the spider. He was delighted to find no resistance. They had to go very slowly since both of them had fangs. He took a piece of lip and gently sucked on it, running the tooth along it. 

Then he started pressing his nose into Gaster’s neck. The spider shivered. 

  
His paws traveled up the spider’s chest and across the back of his neck. He gently began to undo buttons with one of them. 

It was actually quite a project getting six different arms out of black suit jacket sleeves. He was amused. Stiffed and starched coats were often _already_ awkward to put on for people with just two limbs. He wondered if spiders had to allot more time to their morning routines to get everything in order, or if they were so accustomed to it that they took about the same amount of time as the next monster. He would ask when they were done. How in the world did he coordinate all those limbs? So, not only did he have a massive memory storage in that head, and a scientist's problem solving skills, he also managed to fit all the motor control in there . . . it was just fun to think about as he uncovered his upper torso.

The man was much smaller than he, but as the hands returned his affection he found that, though he looked like slim glass, there was some pushback. He had no weight behind him, but his hands' strength was more than he expected. Well of course. Humanoid spiders had to _haul_ their weight up by strings. They were so good they made it look easy and graceful, too. Many of them also trained in chi point strikes. He suspected the spider could vice him quite easily, not disable him, of course, that was out of the question with his sheer bulk, but definitely cause some pretty intense pain.

Then he realized where his train of thought was running. It figured that even in doing this his warrior brain would be calculating something or other. Hands on him provoked a feeling of grappling nestled up next to the loving, if he let it go on. And that in itself could be arousing. Heaven knew Toriel had gotten a charge out of it. But he sensed the smaller spider needed a softer approach. He was hesitant, Asgore figured both because he was faced with a much more powerful monster here, and he had just entered unfamiliar territory, with another man. He'd need to take the _lead_ here, _but **,**_ he went for another kiss to stop thinking about roughhousing or fighting.


	5. Reality Shift

“Who am I to refuse a king’s request anyway?” the spider whispered.

Asgore stiffened. Did the spider think he was  _ obligated _ to-

His entire world shifted on its axis.

“Don’t  _ you _ want this?” he checked. 

The doctor’s eyes darted up to him, and away again. 

That was too much for Asgore. He backed away and felt more than a little sick. He scrambled through his memories. Where had he  _ ever _ given the impression that this was obligatory? Had it been this way since the beginning? Had those shivers not been from pleasure, but fear or discomfort? His mouth would not work, and he barely had the will to ask the parsing question in the first place or know the answer. 

And  _ worse, _ he began to second guess all the other times he had stolen kisses from the objects of his affections. Were they all just afraid of contradicting a king? He had always tried to treat people as equals, wherever appropriate or possible. Why had he never thought of this angle before? He had comforted tearful exes when they thought they would be let go from their posts in vindictiveness, but that was at the  _ end _ of relationships.

“No, no, no,  _ no. _ ” He put his hands to his head. “That’s not what’s going on at all. I didn’t mean to- Gaster-”   
  
Words were not forthcoming. “Please just go,” he said faintly. He had a lot to sort through, and he did not want to look at the spider. 

“As you wish.” Gaster said, head bowed.

The conciliatory gesture dug the knife in deeper. 

The spider put his shirt back on, long fingers adjusting his many cuffs absently. 

“I understand. I do. You don’t want someone who’s not mutually . . .”

Asgore squeezed his eyes shut. No, the spider  _ didn’t  _ understand. Not the other half of the equation. 

“But. Sire, say I wanted to do this  _ for _ you, would that be a bad reason?”

“Yessssssss,” the part-dragon hissed immediately, puffing up in outrage at the ridiculousness of the question. “Good  _ gracious _ , man, hero-worship is one thing, but _ this? _ ” 

“ . . . oh.” The spider said softly. “Sorry . . . sorry . . . sorry . . . ” he repeated it at different points, pivoting his head as he put six arms into jacket sleeves.

**_He_** was _apologizing?_   Feeling perplexed was becoming quite a familiar sensation to Asgore. Did the spider sound- _and_ look- _hurt?_

Spiders thought of themselves as expendable. How could you not when your smaller cousins were crushed under heels, and speaking against another monster, or scaring them too much with your ‘creepy’ movements, could get you attacked? 

He had already disliked imagining what Gaster would go through on a mere whim from him. That they were not at war anymore, and could not be, was a blessing in that respect. This was just making that more immediate. Their friendship had, in a certain way of looking at it, ‘saved’ his clan, by binding them to his kingdom more tightly, though it meant having them trapped here. Asgore’s people were used to having more free reign. It chafed them to be here. But here, spiders could flourish and settle. Spiders had fled and scattered at onslaughts, creating mosaics of families that hid at the whiff of any trouble. They were used to dark, whether cave or cover of night. He suspected they might even find it comforting, away from diurnal humans. Their allies the bats helped them wherever possible. Gaster’s own family had invented webs and baskets that caught the breeze, carrying them away from battles if there were no aerial projectiles involved. They called them “golden orbs,” a reference to patterned golden orb spiders, even though  _ they _ are not the itty bitty species that fly with strands of webs.

He had influenced the peaceful spider. He had shown him the necessity of war, and ruthlessness on the homefront, too. Was he going to continue to corrupt him? No, he shouldn’t.

The spider had finished putting on his jacket, and this time he bowed fully. “I’m very,  _ very _ sorry I misled you.”

Asgore briefly considered that, then waved it away mentally. At least he knew why the spider seemed to think  _ he _ was at fault, here, backwards though it was. 

The doctor nearly closed the door, but just before it pulled to, he paused, poked his head back in, though he was still looking at the floor. “Thank you anyway, then. It was nice.” 

_ Nice? _

But he had _ just  _ said he was doing it  _ for  _ the king.   


The  _ click _ left Asgore  _ very  _ confused, and still half-aroused. 


	6. Mathematics of Attraction

Okay, he needed to get this straightened out.

His body could just 'let this lie,' it wasn't _that_ important.

But he could _not_ understand what was going on in Gaster's head. He needed to say sorry properly, anyway.

After going back and forth about bringing up his ill-fated advance again for the better part of the day, he decided he needed to for peace of mind.

He summoned the spider and laced his paws together. The other man was not looking at him, and he could understand the awkwardness.

"I need to know. Were you . . ." Asgore cleared his throat, "enduring that for me? I mean, you said it was nice, but-"

"It was . . ." the spider frowned in concentration, "sort of . . . creepy?"

Asgore's stomach plummeted. He really _had_ messed up.

"But I guess it's a spider comeuppance, huh?" Gaster winked with two of his eyes. "Since we like to drop down and surprise people and creep them out."

Well at least the spider seemed to be good spirits of a sorts. Then again, he could be joking either in an attempt to reassure the king purposefully, or cover up his own unease.

"I must apologize, Gaster. I thought, since it had been so long since your wife, you might like some action. I wasn't expecting you'd . . ." he closed his eyes, "I mean, did you _really_ think I'd abuse my authority like that?" The words tumbled out unplanned, and he felt like slapping himself for veering off of being contrite. The annoyance had popped up so suddenly. _He_ was the one who hadn't been clear. He shouldn't be taking the spider to task.

"That's not what I was implying, Sire," the spider shook his head furiously. "I was more thinking along the lines of . . . the king deserves what he wants. The words just spilled out."

Well what a coincidence. "You don't hold yourself in very high regard," he wished he could use some more colorful language to drive the point home, but spiders almost always reacted quite badly to that. "I'm very, very sorry."

"I think you're assuming oddity and . . . pleasure are mutually exclusive, Sire."

"How do you mean?"

"Was it not odd on your wedding night?"

"Odd?"

"Yes. Ah- I mean- I don't mean to pry, but, was that the first time you had . . .?"

"No, Gaster. You should remember that."

The spider's face fell as he recalled a lizard lady whom Asgore had once known. "Yes, but- that's different. Humans wouldn't even understand that. When you were first with Toriel, was it not strange to do something you had never done before?"

"No, it didn't seem strange at all. I had been longing for it so much that it seemed natural."

"Oh." The spider didn't seem to know what to say to that.

"So, I'm at least glad it wasn't all bad for you."

The scientist looked at him seriously. "That . . . would imply, perhaps, what, a 1:5 ratio? If I were to apply my own numbers, Sire, I would say it was more like 3:5."

Something in Asgore unconstricted and he breathed more easily. "Ah. Thank you. That does clear it up then. And . . . it makes me feel a lot better."

The spider nodded.

"So, I guess this means you will look for another wife, rather than experiment with me."

"No, probably not."

He couldn't imagine the spider having a serious relationship outside of marriage. This would have been two men, so it was different. But bedding a woman without committing to her? The king had, of course, but his situation was rather odd in that he held out hope that Toriel would come to her senses. Making their separation legal would only solidify her resolve. He hadn't found anyone that made him want to seriously reconsider. He'd made the arrangement clear from the beginning, and a good number had entered it with the intent to convince him along the way. The Queen's spot was coveted by many. "What? Really? You seem a by-the-book man, Doctor."

"Oh, I am."

"Then . . .?"

"I don't think I will partner up again, Sire."

Asgore deflated. It made him sad to think of Gaster resigning himself to that so early. But- "Some just really steal your heart, don't they?" the chimera said understandingly.

"Oh no, Sire. That's not it. I am not angry at her. We . . . parted on, not great terms, but not terrible, either."

"It's not anger I'm talking about, Gaster. It's love."

"Well, regardless, that's not the issue."

As usual, Asgore could not make heads or tails of the man. It was actually almost entertaining trying to even chase down-

_Run him down mentally._

He almost flashed his teeth instinctually, but caught himself. The hunt for the elusive mind of the Doctor. Yes, he could accept the metaphor, but control came first. Demeanor was drilled into royals, and sometimes he wondered if he were actually helpful or if it just served to clutter up his mind for no reason. "So, why have you decided not to even look?"

The spider shrugged. "I don't feel the need to. Work keeps me busy."

"You really shouldn't overwork yourself to the point where you can't be social."

The spider eye waved for several minutes before replying. "I guess what's not getting through, is that, I am different from other people, Sire. I don't need as much companionship. Though . . ." he rubbed his neck. "This . . . does seem intriguing. I mean, I didn't expect it, but," he laughed, "and if you had told me beforehands I might have been horrified . . . funny how moment to moment your mind can change so much . . ."

A small thrill of hope went through Asgore. Maybe he could salvage this. But, he'd definitely leave it up to the Doctor.

"I would be just fine we just let this pass by. But. If I were to weigh the pros and cons, erm, I just cannot see many reasons not to try it out, seeing as we would both benefit. Yes?"

Asgore lit up. "You really mean it?"

Gaster smiled. "I may play tricks, Sire. But this is one thing I try to stay completely genuine about."

 

 


	7. Six times Six

Shirtless, the spider was even _more_ fascinating. Asgore watched the six sets of pectoral muscles move.

"Six pecs.

and

a

Six pack"

"That is a joke that has been passed around for ages." Gaster informed him. "Some get tired of it. To others, it never gets old."

Asgore remembered the bizarre sight of watching two spider children play their version of patty cake. As always, something that seemed just like fun to everyone else seemed a coordination exercise. It was endlessly mesmerizing. He kissed the strange chest lavishly, and the lavender spider hummed.

He worked his way down his belly, licking in large swipes, until he was almost at his base-

But the spider suddenly grabbed his shoulders. "W-what are you doing?" he asked, purple eyes worried through his haze. "T-that, is demeaning, isn't it, Sire? T-that's not for _you_ to . . ."

Asgore smirked. "It depends on how you look at it. I get to watch you squirm and moan." He breathed down his belly, careful not to heat up his air too much, and at the sensation the spider shut his eyes and sucked in his own breath, grip tightening. Asgore licked his lips. "So who's really in control, and who the 'lower' position?"

"So you mean to demean _me_ ," the spider said pitifully.

Asgore suppressed a sigh of exasperation, though that probably would have worked just as well to add to the spider's pleasure again. Asgore was used to partners _begging_ for this. He almost rolled his eyes. Some of them wanted to be _made_ to beg. There was no shame in that, in the privacy of chambers. Well, not that they were in chambers. The study's couch would have to do. He couldn't be sneaking the spider in and out of his bedroom, after all.

The point was, this was a very pleasurable thing. And yet here the spider was recoiling at it.

Why did a man who had such a _spectacular_ sense of humor suddenly have to take everything so _very_ seriously?

Then that feeling was followed by concern. Gaster was very invested in pride, perhaps even more so than himself.

And besides, that's unfair, he argued with himself. This _was_ serious. Possibly more 'serious' than any other person he had made love to, if not for the sheer reason that Gaster had essentially offered himself, despite getting plenty out of it, too.

He had heard that spiders were very- ha- _conservative_ in their relations. He had a lot to teach the teacher.

He rested his lips on his belly and wracked his brain for a way to find a way past both of the his insecurities. Somehow he guessed a simple 'You'll like it' wouldn't nearly cut it for Gaster, he thought drolly.

Gaster put a pair of hands that were not semi-restraining gently on his head, and Asgore grunted as he scratched his ears. He circled Gaster with his own arms, tucking him even closer.

He seemed to think the king had given up and relinquished, but he was not- the chimera smirked again- _licked_ yet.

He chuckled.

"W-what?" the spider asked, laughing a little in return as he was directly tickled by it.

Tickle licked.

The chuckle grew more robust until the spider said sadly, ". . . are you laughing at me?"

His face went immediately still. "No, no." He explained, and the spider joined him.

"Wait." The spider said thoughtfully. "What is the difference between pleasure and a tickle? _Could_ you tickle me with your tongue?"

"Well, we could experiment."

The scientist smirked. "That is an experiment I never thought of attempting. Hm, what is our hypothesis, my King? What is the difference?"

"A tickle is like, a light feeling." Asgore said. "Pleasure is deeper."

"Yes. But you're describing the sensation itself. We need to figure out how to achieve the desired result. The method."

Asgore licked an ab, and the spider shuddered. "Nope, not a tickle."

"Hm." Asgore repeated the same motion, but slower.

He watched five pupils dilate a bit. His baritone grew husky. "T-that was further away from your intended goal, Sire."

Asgore made a much swifter motion.

"Nnnn- ah. Maybe . . . closer? That was . . ." he tilted his head. "Almost a mix of the two?"

"Maybe it depends on where. Where are you most ticklish?"

"The typical place, I suppose. Slightly to the side."

Asgore licked the edge of the ab.

"Hm, it's gone again. Try the tip of your tongue, instead of the flat part."

He did and the spider flinched away from him. "Ah, I think that's cracked it," he smiled. "Expect a full thesis paper tomorrow afternoon," he said sarcastically.

They played for nearly half an hour, figuring out where and what caused different reactions. This almost could be an interesting paper, Asgore thought. What nerves were there that produced tickles versus plain pressure? He had read hypotheses about why ticklishness had evolved in the first place, as a mechanism to prompt protective guarding of weak spots. Essentially, your body automatically trains you to dislike being touched in a place that is vulnerable to attack. He wondered if he could integrate tickling into martial arts training for young boys. It could be fun and illustrative.

"I'm sorry I can't do this for you," the spider said, moving his fingers through his fur.

"Eh. Such is Fate."

The spider suddenly got an impish grin. "Have you ever shaved your fur off?"

Asgore made a startled noise. "Wh- There is no way I'd go around with a shaved chest or belly."

"It would be under your robes. Just on the trunk of your body. No one would have to know." Gaster scratched his ears again.

"Servants are in and out of my room, Gaster. I'd have to either come up with a reason why I had suddenly decided to do that, and then order them not to tell anyone, because I really don't want the kingdom gossiping about _why their King has suddenly gone crazy after he's lost his wife-_ " his words had grown angrier and faster and the spider laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey. I'm sorry. All right."

"That was fun, but I'd really like to get back to what I was doing before. 'Demeaning' is in the eye of the beholder. Some people will treat it as such, and idiom reinforces it, but it's not inherently so."

The spider's tension returned, and he didn't reply.

"Gaster," the chimera rumbled warmly, as he looked back up at him, soft golden beard rubbing and causing the lavender spider to giggle again, "do you believe me when I say I would _never_ want to demean you?"

He seemed touched at that, smiling. The philosopher said, "Plenty of people do things they do not 'mean' to do." His words somewhat contradicted the impression, though.

"de-mean" Asgore quipped.

"Ha."

But the tension was slowly leaking out of him, and even his thoughtful stroking of the king's head seemed to change rhythm.

"With the way I am, I may not ever get another chance to try it with anyone else," Gaster mused, more to himself than the king.

Asgore frowned, not sure if he liked that reasoning. It almost made it sound like he was cornered. But then, the spider always seemed to have a completely different take on everything. He just had never known it extended into the sexual realm as well.

"Okay," Gaster said.

"You're sure it's all right?" Asgore wanted badly to share this with him, but . . .

The spider parted his lips to say it again, but hesitated.

Asgore pulled himself up to his face, and the many eyes opened, gazing back at him. He searched each one.

"You're sure?"

The spider leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose.


	8. Reciprocal Fractional

After he was done introducing the spider to the new means of pleasure, Gaster caught a bit of a chill. The large, furry king kept the room much colder than the slender spider would have preferred. Even cuddled up into him, his exposed skin was still cold. It was a bit like when you’re sitting next to a campfire and your face and hands are warm but your back is cold, and you can’t quite figure out what to do about it. 

So, he got up and put his cotton undergarments back on, and then returned to his spot. He was still panting a little.

“Well, is . . . is it your turn, then . . .?” The spider asked haltingly. “Only right to repay the favor, correct?”

“If you want,” the king said. “Even when I had been attracted to a man, it was . . . a little gross, to be honest. Since you’re  _ not  _ attracted, I don’t think the typical reciprocation should apply, personally.” 

The spider eye waved again. “Well, I’m torn between wanting to do it for you and . . . well . . .”    
  
“I understand.” Asgore said. “Maybe just use your hands for now. Who knows, maybe you’ll warm up to the idea one day.” 

The king directed him in what he liked. The spider could perch on top of him like a bird, and not cause him too much discomfort, which was interesting.

Then they both settled into the couch. 

“So, how has Gerson been doing?” the doctor asked.

“Not well, my friend.” Asgore replied seriously. “You know how he blames himself for all of us being down here. I tell him over and over that he did a spectacular job and Fate just dealt us a bad hand, but he’s always busy self-flagellating, just like you are.”

“Well, can you blame me? All my genius, all my effort to help and inspire them, and the people still look hollow-eyed and downtrodden.” 

“But the same applies to you.” Asgore asserted. The predator bared every single one of his teeth and growled.

Startled, the spider went to his knees in surprise at the earthquake under him. 

  
“ **_Humans_ ** did this to us, remember.” 


	9. Deceleration

The next morning, Gaster had a mischievous look in his eyes. He fingered a slip of paper and walked across the room to put it on Asgore's desk.

It read:

_**Would My Lord's sword hot from the forge gore me? Or would engorged, enormous Asgore be glorious?** _

Just reading the words made Asgore's body react. "Oh that . . . that is _quite_ clever, Doctor."

"Heh heh heh, I thought you'd like it."

"Well, does that mean you want to try it out later tonight?"

The spider looked thoughtfully at him.

"Why don't we meet up after we've done all our work for the day. We'll talk about it then."

The spider nodded.

More than once, during all of his tasks, Asgore glanced at the paper again. In the afternoon he actually got so worked up he had to relieve himself in order to be able to concentrate on what he was doing.

The dream came back to him, of pinning the doctor down.

Another recent dream came into sharper focus.

* * *

He was standing over a deer minotaur child, one he had slashed. He was shell-shocked. Their dry, scratchy fur clung to his claws, and his father's own taur head drew close to him as his serpentine neck wound around his face, shielding him from the sight. "It's all right," he said, voice unusually soft. "You didn't mean it. He'll be fine once he stops crying like a scared little rabbit."

"I know it doesn't seem like it," his father said after a pause. "But you've done well. You stopped. Good job, my boy. You have to keep a watchful eye on it, you know. We all do."

In the middle of the night, again at the basin, the adult's head swam, even as rivulets of water swam through his fur. He was small when that happened, he reminded himself. Small.

Inexperienced.

Had that been a cousin, or just a friend? The man honestly couldn't remember. He felt he was doing a disservice- a _big_ one- by forgetting.

He had avoided such mishaps with Asriel, in his short life. But, he might've been giving him a complex about reminding him, the other side of his mind said dryly. He'd never get a chance to find out, would he?

* * *

That part of him seemed to breath on the back of his neck. He'd need to be very careful with the Doctor.

_click_

"Sire, I must confess, I've been thinking about it and . . . I mean, if you want to then . . . I'm just not sure if it would work," the spider said.

"It could be both pleasure and pain." The part-dragon said, with experience.

The spider's many hands fidgeted. "Um." He sat down in a chair. "I . . . I think I feel a little lightheaded."

The part-dragon came up to him and rested a paw on his head.

Three of the spider's hands cradled his elbow, then turned his paw over, examining it. He laced his long but slender fingers across the pads. He smiled, seemingly reassured by the softness of them. Just because claws could come out, didn't mean they weren't gentle. The other hands felt a bicep, Then he put his cheek in the paw. "Logistically speaking," the small man said finally, "I don't think it's a good idea."

"You're probably right." Asgore nodded. "And . . . I have extremely careful control of myself, Gaster, but. Maybe. Just. Shouldn't even chance it."

The spider looked up at him. "So, you . . . you want to keep this up, even if I can't do that for you?"

"Of course." Asgore said immediately.

The spider's eyes misted.

"Hey, hey, are you okay?" Asgore brought his other paw to the other cheek.

"J-just," the spider quavered, "I'm really glad that you still like this and um," his fingers trembled a little bit. "I . . . I thought it was a forgone conclusion."

The chimera titled his head. "Hm?"

"I thought that . . . eventually . . . it would have to happen." The spider's breath was getting erratic. "You've already told me you wouldn't want it the other way around. I mean, that's what's done, right? It's what you're supposed to do. It's like consummation."

It dawned on Asgore that all this time the spider had been **fearing** this.

"I've . . . never been attracted to a man," the spider's words tumbled faster, "s-so, it's not like . . . I was wanting it, or picturing it, you know? B-b-but maybe it would be like the first time we kissed. Maybe I would like it even though I wouldn't have expected it. B-but," he clutched at his chest.

"A-a-and I thought,

_I should trust him,_

_he won't hurt me,_

why would I even-

but what if he _did_ and-

I wouldn't know what to do,"

He choked.

"would I ask to leave?

would he ask me to?

but, I didn't want to stop this,

what if it didn't turn out well

and he was nice about letting me go-

and I wouldn't get to go to him anymore-

I mean, I'd be okay,

or maybe I would _miss_ it?-

I _think_ I would-

or what if he was upset

that it couldn't work

and he was disappointed

and he turned away from me-

Would we still be friends

Or-

It wouldn't be my fault, right?

I maybe shouldn't have done this at all

I should have just walked away

He would've let me

But now

It would just be bad luck

It wouldn't be his fault either

That's not a betrayal

Why would it feel that way?

_No_

If I lost my lifelong friend

To have to report to Asgore, but have no rapport?

Every day

And _pretend that everything was okay_ -"

"Oh, oh, Gaster," Asgore encircled him and nuzzled his neck. "It **_is_** okay. None of that matters." The spider's strong but shaking hands clutched at him, burying his face into his shoulder. "We would still be friends no matter what," the king whispered. "And . . ." he nipped the Doctor's collarbone lightly, eliciting a bit of a squeak. "You're too tasty a morsel to give up, even if I can't wolf you down all at once."

"ohhhh Ssire," he said, tilting his head upwards to give the chimera better access.

Asgore slid a hand into one of his. Three other hands rested on top, and then aligned between his knuckles. There was a faint pressure, as if in a still handshake.

"This . . . this is just a dangerous thing," the spider sighed. "I think even among humans it's got its fair share of problems, though they have it easier than us. It's a good thing we decided not to expose everyone else and open the discussion to the public."

Anachronistic Arachnid Number 8 Log.

Okay. I cannot _**believe**_ I have to take notes on this. Like, _really?_

My Asgore and I are _just friends_ , thank you very much.

You're putting images in my head that I'd really just rather-

But no.

_Somehow,_ you've worked it out to where this is a _crucial_ , pivoting turning point

Where there are about nine different bad outcomes-

Wait. No. No. I have to count. Carefully. Those were just rough estimates.

D~~~~~Bleeeep

I know you wouldn't want to hear this, so I won't tell you, but worse things have happened to other Doctors.

. . .

. . .

. . .

_N-Not by Asgore, though!_ That's not what I meant. Just to be clear.

Humans can be brutal.

Especially to a being they think is a demon.

And has a head crammed full of military secrets, science, and magic.

As for you two.

Sometimes there are miscommunications, sometimes there are hurt feelings, sometimes it takes a long time for it to get patched up, but in most of the timelines this all gets resolved.

And yes, he can hurt you. Badly. But.

Asgore cares about you. The thing is, you don't care enough about yourself.

Oh man.

If anyone ever sees these tapes, and- and- _what will my_ Asgore think? S~~~ Bleeeep

Alphys, you and I have a _massive_ secret to keep.

And how would that even work over here, anyway, I mean he's an _**actual**_ dragon now

and I'm still a small humanoid,

Heh heh heh. That's. Actually kind of funny.

Like, what, does a dragon lick you like a giant dog?

_Heehhaaaheha_

I mean, he still has the ox tongue, so-

It'd be like a kitten's bath.

You'd be naked.

Ha.

You wouldn't want to get licked by Toriel

Because hers is a cat tongue

Ouch.

She has to check the impulse.

HAAAHeehaheaaaaaaa

Maybe we should torture some humans with her tongue baths. Oh man, I slay myself.

Alphys is going to have a laughing fit when she sees this recording.

_Heya, best assistant in the world!_

You're my Number 1 girl!

We rock the _socks_ off these _numb-_ ers

While everyone _else_ slumbers

In the _peace_ we help create

Haha. I'm glad I caught that on tape. Now I can write it down and make it into a poem later.

. . .

You know . . . I just realized I . . . actually sometimes miss him being-

Normal.

You can't sit down and have tea with a dragon.

. . .

. . .

. . .

F~~~ Bleeeeep

Losing Asgore's friendship would destroy me no matter what timeline we're talking about

I already found some of those dead ends

But I still have to look up at that face every day

and not tell him what's going on in other timelines

Because he has plenty on his plate to deal with

In any case.

Your Asgore is correct.

Do not chance it.

But, now I have to have this conversation with _other_ Doctors

Ugh-

Screw you, Number two.

Just.

Screw you.

Literally.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly's Log Feburary 25, 2016 8:02 AM Eastern Standard Time
> 
> I challenge you to find a better example of Mood Whiplash. I'm actually very proud. I think this deserves its own TV Tropes page. What do you think?
> 
> Also. Seme and Uke? Repeating a pattern over and over of vaguely manipulative and abusive relationships? And actual ones, too? What are you guys, collectively masochistic . . . ?
> 
> I do not understand. In the least.


	10. Methodology

The spider, since he did not get excited easily himself, manipulated him very precisely.

He seemed to pour all of his methodical nature into raptly observing what gave the king the most pleasure. Long fingers would stroke first slowly, then quickly, taking mental notes on every pant and twitch.

Each rhythm had its own tempo and sensation. The dancer seemed to dance across his skin.

He dragged others of his fingertips away from the what he was doing and back again. Asgore had **_never_** had anyone touch anywhere **else** during. **_Why_** had it never occurred to him, or them? The added sensation was _**amazing.**_

When he squeezed him, it was like he was a potter, molding clay on a spinning wheel, lovingly, carefully, slowly, into beautiful forms.

And when Asgore would convulse, almost violently, with pleasure, and cry out,

the slender hands would rest on him as if to say, shhhhhh, relax. Are you okay?

You are safe here in my hands, My Lord.

You are my very favorite project.

And when he was finally done, Asgore would always sit there, limp and gasping, with stars swirling before his eyes.

Others had roamed his body as a pre-planned tourist, who knew where they wanted to go and had a route planned out.

The Doctor explored him like a deserted island, new and strange.

To make the matter more interesting, he had multiple hands, so multiple bands of people to explore the new land.

Women had admired his shoulders and men had dived down the waterfall but Gaster would do things like observe with interest the angles at which his hip joints moved as he opened himself and kissed the inside of his thighs. And study his ankles to see how they compared to his little ones. All of his body was interesting to a man who had never had time to study anatomy in books, as he was so consumed with his other work.

And the fur. Oh how Gaster loved running his long fingers through every square inch of it. Toriel had her own, so it hadn't been as special to her. Not that he should be comparing, he reminded himself. All lovers were different. But Gaster was more different.

His already strong admiration for the huge chimera seemed to increase, too, like standing right under a building instead of seeing it a few blocks away.

And when they'd lie cradled together on the sofa, he almost had the thought that this was even more interesting to navigate that the flat bed. More of a challenge.

He just wished he could sleep cuddled up with him more. As it was, they snuck in naps and nighttime meetings as much as they could.


	11. Spinning Spidery Mobiles

A while later, Gaster was summoned out of his normal routine, and the spider looked slightly exasperated. "Really, Sire, you've been more frequent this month-"

Asgore waved him silent. "Actually, I wanted you to come and watch me carve."

"Ah! Excellent! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Asgore turned around, and Gaster headed towards the sofa to sit. At one end of the room, was a huge slab of wood. It was about four inches thick, and 10 x 10 ft.

Asgore brought a palm to his chest, focusing.

_"Fire is my element_

_Wood my second_

_I bring to my mind a picture_

_And my hands ready for the click sure"_

"You remember that vista that we used to travel through while gathering supplies during the summer?"

"Yes."

"I want to put down a good impression of it," his voice lowered in anger, "since I won't get to see it again, possibly for . . ."

He stopped, and the spider waited.

Asgore turned around, but still wouldn't speak. His eyes looked haunted.

"What is it, Sire?' the spider asked.

His head was bowing and he began to shake. The spider recognized the signs of a wrestling of anger. He lightly got to his feet and retreated to one corner of the room. "Should I . . . should I go out, or are you ok?"

The huge part-dragon heaved, and his tail thrashed. But he said, "I-I'm fine this time 'round, you won't be in danger-"

"That's not what I'm concerned about Sire. I've been burned before. It's ok. Healing spells are easy enough to do. I want to respect your privacy, if you wish it."

That seemed to actually give him some calm. "You are so considerate, Gaster . . . and . . . well, you still wouldn't want you nice suit ruined, hmm? Tch. Also, I would have thought that was a moot point seeing as we are already so intimate with each other."

"No, Sire." The spider shook his head. "I don't know how it is for predators, really, but for spiders, there are many distinct dimensions of privacy. As well as levels of intimacy."

"That sounds interesting. What do you mean?"

Gaster eye waved for a moment. "Um, it's not exactly . . . smiled upon for spiders to tell others unless they are very deeply committed. It's not a taboo or anything, but to be perfectly honest, I am already at odds with other spiders because of my separation from the Duchess, not to mention my odd proclivities, so I'd want to get any partnership recognized beforehand, and since we haven't agreed this is serious . . ."

"Okay, then. Let me tell you what made me so angry." Asgore puffed out a pall of smoke, then shut his lips up tightly again. "I just had the thought that . . . the next time I see the vista," the immortal clenched his paws, and a couple of his needle nails dug into his pads, "you probably would have died of old age by then. And you won't get to see it."

"Oh-" the air elemental whooshed over to his side. "Oh, Sire-" he hugged him tightly with all six arms. The part-dragon pecked a kiss where his nose would have been, had he been human. Since he was earless as well, the paws easily moved all over his head, as if memorizing it. The spider had black curly hair that was very carefully arranged in place, but the king could care less about that. He bent it in all directions, watching the glossy sheen change from orderly to mussy.

"You don't have to worry about that for a long while yet, Sire," the spider said softly as he comfortingly rubbed his expansive back six ways. "And we'll do plenty of collaborative art between then and now. You'll have pieces of me. I'll . . . make you _wonderful_ spindly machines that tick back and forth with metronomes and hanging mobiles, we'll put them in the halls with the stained glass windows and experiment with materials to catch the light different ways. I'll have my servants spin new webs every day to decorate, dusted with artificial dewdrops. We have to make the most of what little sunlight we get down here, huh, it really is a shame, but-but- ** _it'll be okay_** Sire -"

The large king hugged him fully, smiling at his friend's- and lover's- creativity, as well as his sincerity. Despite his claim to privacy, the usually stiff-mannered man had thawed considerably since they had started their romps. The fire monster volunteered, "Hanging little marionette spider men from the ceiling, perhaps? And you can power it three different ways. One will be a furnace, that I can throw fire into. One will be electricity, once you've worked out all the kinks of that. And one will be a hand crank. If at any time I want to send it all into motion, all I have to do is use my element. And if children come to the palace, they can use the cranks. Other times it will run automatically."

The spider nodded furiously against his fur, almost seeming to rub intentionally. "Yes, yes, Sire, _excellent!_ I'll start working on blueprints right away. You can send the little micro-society spinning any time you'd like."

"No one will ever forget your name. Not as long as I rule this kingdom. And I simply must have recordings of your voice, doctor. We've done so many duets, like I have with others, but we don't have them preserved yet . . . that smooth baritone of yours," he fingered the spider's collar, "you know, I promise I didn't originally bring you in for this but," he growled gently and deeply in his chest, "would you mind if-"

"Mmm, I'm finding I'm more in the mood, now, too, Sire."

They undressed each other more hurriedly than normal.

Instead of going to the couch the king lifted him up right there. The strong man could hold the spider up with one arm and still use the other to stroke him.

He shifted his supporting arm so that it went right between his legs. The huge paw rested against his lower back.

"Nnnnnnnnnnn-aah" the spider shifted back and forth, didn't know how to adjust to the odd position, or the sensation of all the fur rubbing against himself, but he seemed to be enjoying it anyway.

Asgore bucked and the spider squeaked.

Asgore began to wonder if that would ever stop. It . . . deep down in his lion heart the sound was a prey sound. Not that he was tempted by it at all, not right then, he just never liked thinking of the doctor being afraid of him. It was involuntary of course, on both their parts, and he knew the doctor trusted him with his life, but as he stroked the spider's knee and all the hands rubbed him, in one corner of his mind he simply went on wondering . . .

After they were done, Gaster quickly put his suit back on, donning his demeanor.

He also wondered if the doctor would ever fully relax ** _that_** around him.

But, at least the spider did hop up on the desk, sitting casually. He never would have done that normally. He crossed his legs, put two pairs of hands behind him to lean back, used two to tame his hair back into place, and two to gesture with as he talked. "And maybe this . . . difference is why we . . . really shouldn't be together as much as . . . um . . . conventional? partners would be. Not let ourselves get in too deep," the spider's eyes creased, "and _screw_ my brain for taking that in a sexual direction."

The king smirked, and got out a notepad. He wrote,

_Sexual_

_Derexion_

_Erexion_

Gaster looked completely bowled over. All the hands stopped moving.

"Wordplay can be a curse, huh?" Asgore laughed.

Gaster replied evenly and calmly, "No, Sire. A mixed blessing, perhaps. So. I understand you had courted some other immortals, but you haven't found a suitable match yet, correct?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"Going to do what?"

"Keep looking."

Asgore frowned. "Why would you even ask that? I'm partnered with you right now."

The spider blinked. "Um. But . . . it's not . . . a 'real' partnership . . ."

Something clicked into place. " _Do you seriously think_ that I'm keeping you a _secret_ in order to just have you in here like my _sleazy cousins would with their maids?_ " the part-dragon shouted, almost roared at him.

There was no good answer to that question, and the spider's silent surprise was confirmation enough. He was too stunned to even be afraid of the loud sound.

Pain lanced through his heart as he remembered the first night he had kissed him, and how that could have gone much more badly. Would that doctor have felt used, or cornered? Betrayed, even? He was his closest friend, after all. The spider had both expressed his own wishes to be left alone, and his own prejudices at first, even if they had been minor enough to melt after consideration, and for that matter, maybe the only reason he had entertained the idea of courting was because it was specifically at the king's behest. Or, he pictured, if the spider hadn't spoken up about him topping. If the Doctor's secretive experiments were correct, there were probably Doctors out there that-

His throat constricted.

Well, he had this one, he reminded himself. He breathed several times. This was still good.

To be fair, many monsters were less squirrelly about this sort of thing than humans. Squirrels squabbled about it a good bit, but rabbits . . . he didn't know much about specifics of other species. Maybe it was poor form on his part to be so insulted. But still.

It wasn't the way he was brought up. And he liked to think that he also plain didn't jive with the idea himself.

He could picture how that would go in typical mores. He would court someone for a while, and, before it got physical, tell them about this. Those already attached would agree to break it off if the new party asked.

Unfortunate prey species sometimes got intimidated into such arrangements, though for the most part they were voluntary. Mouse maids or butlers, with sleek whiskers and tiny paws, were a favorite "pursuit" of predators. Often prey were put in less priority, though that was more for culture clash reasons and other difficulties than discrimination, or so people claimed. It was a complicated issue.

He'd rather not get his own paws wet in that area at all.

Given the way the doctor was, he'd probably take either outcome even less personally.

If Gaster wanted to keep him at arm's distance, he supposed there wasn't anything he could do about it.

He . . . might be feeling the stirrings of some real attachment, he reflected. But even if that never came to pass . . . couldn't the man **_ever understand_** how much he _**respected**_ him? As someone on level ground? He was even his elder, for God's sake. He had been there when his father was killed in battle, been there to help him through it at both a political and personal level.

He at _least_ had to get the spider to actually realize how much he meant to him. He wondered if this had knocked down his position, made him feel like less, if the doctor was really as dispassionate about it as he appeared, or if it had drawn him closer, mentally speaking.

He didn't even know how to properly phrase all the questions bubbling up in him.

Asgore may have been a warrior, and yes, the spider was much weaker than he. But, that wasn't the only dimension to his identity. That would be his _father_ , he thought angrily, not himself. His part-taur father would have- the horned king smirked- had a _**cow**_ at the idea of his choosing a spider for such an important position. Personally **_or_** professionally.

It was just that everyone treated spiders so . . . badly. Gaster apparently couldn't believe that he, the king, and a dragonkin no less, would put him on an even footing.

The doctor certainly dressed like a butler, and maybe he thought of himself as such. More than as a Royal Scientist. It was typical attire for his people, because of where their ancestors hailed from, but Asgore began scheming to present him some with some real robes. Ones like he and the rest of his advisors wore. Heck, he would have the royal tailor make up an entirely new design for the spider, he resolved to himself. Maybe make the pairs of sleeves all different lengths. That would be interesting. Then again, spiders were also very fastidious about showing their bodies. The spider never simply hung around naked, even after they had pleasured each other. The furry king, for his own part, slept without clothes and would try not to chuckle when the spider would cock his head in befuddlement when they'd cuddle and his partner would leave his clothes on the floor while he'd don undergarments. So, the shorter sleeves for the robes would need to have light layers underneath, perhaps. Maybe he could model it loosely after human's wizards' robes. Except with numbers instead of stars. The doctor certainly did "work magic" with science, he thought jokingly. They didn't need any reminders that they wouldn't see stars for a _very, very_ long time . . . and the doctor, probably not at all. Asgore tried to picture how many animals in his life might survive long enough, besides Gerson the tortoise. The tally came up very short. It was not a fun feeling . . . slight _guilt_ for being immortal. Premonitive survivor's guilt.


	12. Predatory

Chapter 13: Predatory

Suddenly Asgore leapt back from him.

"What? What is it?"

The part-dragon looked pained.

"This is a predator thing, isn't it?"

"It's just a stray thought, not going to bother with it."

"A stray predator, huh? Better than a _stray_ pet?" The spider joked.

But Asgore's face didn't change.

"Why don't you want to tell me?"

Asgore looked down and his paws opened and closed, claws in and out, trying to decide if it was worth it.

"It's all right. Whatever it is." The spider said.

The part-feline closed his eyes.

Then looked at him. "I just wondered if my mouth would fit around your entire neck. Not . . . not that I would do that, not that I was even picturing it even, just, _**if**_ it was big enough. Logistically. I swear."

The spider was quite clearly schooling his reaction. Asgore recognized that unnatural stillness that almost all predators and a handful of other species learned as the other man processed. His face went intentionally blank. Concealment. Camouflage of the mind. Freeze. Being figuratively 'open,' like being literally out in an open field, whether alone or in ranks, was sometimes just as dangerous.

A rhyme his father sang to him came to mind.

_If you stay open_

_And unfocused_

_Have you ever seen a snake crouch_

_And hypnotize a mouse?_

_Well, humans will sing you to sleep_

_Music calms a savage beast_

_They have beautiful voices, hon_

_But don't get caught in that web, run._

And, a rabbit's song,

**_The predators_ **

**_can smell your fear dear._ **

**_I know it's hard to hear._ **

**_But it only serves to arouse their senses_ **

**_If you can, calm it._ **

**_If not,_ **

**_Freeze._ **

**_Breathe._ **

**_Slowly._ **

**_Let them sniff you out_ **

**_Watch their eyes. Read them. Cock your ears_ **

**_Bolting may be_ **

**_What you have to do_ **

**_But that is a risk, too._ **

**_For chasing for them is impulsive_ **

**_Watch their body language_ **

**_You are not in danger_ **

**_If anger_ **

**_Or ill intent_ **

**_is not present._ **

**_For many the fear is akin to pleasant_ **

**_Drinking in the scent_ **

**_For others it makes them ashamed_ **

**_So help them if you can._ **

**_They are merely drawn to_ **

**_And they will not harm you_ **

**_They will do everything in their power_ **

**_Staring down death_ **

**_Is our bravery_ **

**_I only wish we_ **

**_Could teach the humans_ **

**_When their hearts start to pound_ **

**_All that's needed is to ground_ **

**_When their heart beats a warning_ **

**_Like our Echoing Earth-stomping feet_ **

**_But you are in control,_ **

**_I'm here to teach._ **

**_Don't let the panic mount._ **

**_Be present_ **

**_Be the observer._ **

**_A calm lion_ **

**_Will adopt a baby calf_ **

**_If ze sees fit_ **

**_Even the non-sapients do it_ **

**_Though they don't know how to care for them_ **

**_Poor dears._ **

**_And have you ever seen_ **

**_A lion stroll lazily_ **

**_right by a zebra's herd_ **

**_Swishing zeir tail_ **

**_When ze has already been sated_ **

**_The mute horse's cousins watch nearby_ **

**_With nary a worry_ **

But he was doing no such thing. He _wasn't_ lying, and he _wasn't_ hiding anything more dangerous. He needed the spider to understand. He didn't want him to be afraid. " ** _Really._** I mean it. Don't think that-"

"Well, there's only one way to find out, right?"

Asgore's mind blanked. " _WHAT?_ "

The spider was . . . **_what the dust_** . . . he was smiling.

"It seems a harmless enough experiment," the scientist said simply. "You're not mad at me for anything, are you?"

"No. Of course not."

"Then what's the danger?"

If Asgore were human, the already white monster would have turned white.

"Oh, oh, oh, Gaster. If you- _**SIFT**_."

The air-empowered older man literally jumped four feet at the unexpected monster dialect curse from the younger gentleman. A tiny ' jumping spider' had they been sapient, might have envied the scientist's defiance of physics without any effort whatsoever, though they could- proportionately- jump much higher.

Asgore's eyes roamed the room, as if looking for a way to explain without terrifying him more. He recalled hunts with his father, experimenting to see if he could walk on all fours. Every different chimera had an individualized process for learning locomotion. He remembered watching a non-sapient rabbit's ears flick towards him and away, trying to ferret him out. "Have you ever put a piece of chocolate in your mouth, and tried to let it melt, but you got impatient and bit into it anyway?"

" . . . y-yes." the shaken man replied.

"You-" his eyes teared up and his voice thickened like rich indulgent molasses, tawny and translucent to feeling, "You are _so much more important_ than a piece of chocolate."

The spider's shield was shaken now, so he could read that first his face glowed, then he looked blankly thoughtful, and at last, just a slight cringe of apprehension.

His words perfectly reflected each of the three. "T-thank you. That means a lot. It was weird picturing it, but I think I want to try."

"Why on earth?"

"Don't you mean 'why in your green garde-"

" _I'm not playing around here, Gaster_ ," the part-feline barked, cutting off the phrase that people used to express 'what the-'

Now he just seemed confused by his anger. "Well, think of it this way. Have you ever dove off of a waterfall-"

Asgore let out a half-sob.

"What? What did I _say?_ " Gaster walked up to him. "I'm sorry. I'll just drop it."

" _Asriel's first dive off the Waterfall_ was the most thrill he would ever have in this **_hole._** " Asgore put his head in his paws.

"Oh, oh, Sire. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"I know." He roughly embraced the spider. "It's just where my mind went."

He sniffed and silently cried for a moment.

"D-don't make me put y-you in danger, t-too." Asgore pleaded. "E-especially when _I'm_ the threat."

"I see, I see." The spider soothed.

"I mean, if you wanted to put numbers to it," Asgore said shakily, "Since you're so fond of them, I'd guess there's about a 12% chance, but, that's way past breaking the scale of worth it."

"Absolutely. The weigh scale on that transaction to convert currency to metal would need me to tinker with it to fix it."

Asgore laughed as the spider strung out his metaphor and added in literal meaning, too.

"Not worth what I'd get out of it."

Again, Asgore blanked. But this time, his "What?" was more even.

"When you said that, I got this sensation, like . . . well, that's what I was using the waterfall comparison for. The falling sensation in the stomach. It's like diving off a waterfall, and trusting there aren't rocks at the bottom, because your friends are down there pointing out where the deep and safe part is."

"That . . . is pretty interesting." Asgore reflected.

"But still not worth it."

"No." Asgore said seriously. "You want to know something about the predator courts, little spider? _**Where**_ an injury is just as important, in determining a case, as how bad it is. If it is a charge of normal battery, a flank is not so bad. But, a strike to the trunk of the body, or a throat is a lesser crime. It is indicative that instincts were involved. However, if the defendant is highly trained in martial arts, the trunk is a greater one, as it shows intention to harm. More nuance follows after that if the creature has claws or was using chi point strikes. You know what increases that 12% chance? If it is a charge of murder, sex is suspected to be involved, _**and**_ the throat is crushed? There is virtually no way out of prison. Death penalty is almost certain, as well."

He rubbed the top of his nose. "The terrible part of it is, sometimes it's not even instinct. You've clenched your teeth while being intimate before, right?"

Gaster was looking at the floor. "Yes."

"And everyone knows the throat is an erogenous zone. But- we _always_ must be conscious, aware, focused, not worked up when we-"

He swallowed.

"I don't know if you've specifically thought about the face that I've never put my teeth on your neck."

His lips smoked. "Some things are just not done. And if anyone breaks that taboo, they have more than just white courts' notes on their hands. Or, should I say, their teeth."

_Anachronistic Arachnid Number 8 -Video Chat- Anachronistic Arachnid Number 2_

_Hmmm, Number 2, that's . . . actually odd to hear that he refused. I wouldn't have expected it. Why not? Well- let me tell you- first of all-_

_Humans- just- won't- sit- down at a peace summit with a f~~~ing dragon!_

_They don't believe he's sapient enough._

_They think any minute he's going to reach out and eat one of them. **As if!**_

_He's a little grumpy sometimes but my- our?- grandfather used to tell me stories about dragons that would keep me up at night. It's like, what, do we need to summon one of THOSE and then have Asgore rescue you from them for you to get the picture? Ugh. I shouldn't tempt myself. That probably wouldn't be possible, you know, to reach that far in the past . . . heh heh . . ._

_And h~~~ if I am going to meet you walking natural disasters without him there. You could squash me like- well. A spider._

_. . ._

_Yes, yes, I know I've finished the Blasters, Number 2, and they're great for an "offensive" defense, but I hate to break it to you- unless you're fighting one on one, like you all are down there with children, it's always hard . . ._

_I've seen the timelines. When they mount a squad and capture me, they don't squash me, they do worse. **Much** worse. And even if Asgore's men infiltrate and get me **back** , he's **already** gone on a **rampage** that-_

_And when I play ambassador over here they think he's **intimidated** me into it_

_Because yeah, I actually **do** flinch when a giant wing brushes past me_

_Don't you flinch just a little bit when your horse suddenly moves its large head_

_After all, it could crush your foot not even meaning to_

_Or your Great Dane beats against you in its earnestness to play_

_He outweighs you._

_He could knock you into a table_

_and you could hit your head._

_Trust me when I say_

_I am safer sitting in the jaws of that dragon than you will ever be with non-sapients._

_Like a lion cub in its pointed mother's mouth._

_I do it every time to prove it. **But no.**_

_All they see is a beast._

I'm trying to study the psychological effects of the souls on him, Number 2, but it's hard to get a bead on it. Sometimes, he seems to have this depth of wisdom that I n _ever would have thought possible, since he was . . . already so amazing._

_No, really, I mean it. I know that's hard to picture. Heh._

_But. There's another side of the coin, too. He's . . . you know what, I don't want to burden you with all of this. You have enough to worry about, and I have other Doctors that can give me better advice and support about it. No offense, of course! You enjoy yourself over there. All right?_

_As for your experience today, In your case I think it's just . . . I don't know- immediacy- of it that makes it dangerous._

_Food chemists have something they call "mouth feel." Yeah, I know, stupid name, right? But, it means, the texture of the food. That in itself is enticing. They find that if something tastes good, but it has a weird texture, you still won't like it. Whereas I think if it has a good mouth feel, that can outweigh a neutral or bad taste. They are constantly trying to find ways to hook and trick people into buying their products. I'm actually rather impressed with all the manipulative marketing strategies. Pretty much every industry has them. They have it **finely** honed, down to an art and science, and the public never seems to catch on that they're being played every single second of every single day. Heh. There's actually a **massive** amount of money involved. Why not just go eat a piece or fruit instead, silly humans, ha. You could even grow your own in your backyard, for Gor's sake. Ach, sorry, I shouldn't take Our Lord's Name in vain._

_They toss perfectly good seeds in the trash after they eat. And then spend **money** for more fruit. Bizarre, huh? Unfortunately we haven't had enough time to establish our own fruit groves yet, as fruit trees do take a long time to mature, but Asgore's huge garden out here is just breathtaking, Number 2. The pumpkins will be ready to harvest soon. Plotting out places for a huge dragon to walk through has been quite an interesting geometrical exercise, haha. Unfortunately he can't eat vegetables quite as much anymore, but he uses them as flavors anyway. Watching a white dragon roll in a field of wildflowers or wind himself up around a tree in a swirl isn't something I'd trade for the world. I'll send you some videos of it all. Know that once you get out of there, you'll have so much to look forward to._

_Oh . . . that's right. You aren't immortal. I'd forgotten that wrinkle, old chum. Sorry! Didn't mean to make you sad. I'm just glad I didn't have to kill any humans to get it._

_But, rest assured, your universe won't end up going to war, as we have, because- well- we already discussed that. I'll make sure of it. I've headed that off in most timelines where it "seeds." Hahaha, triple meaning bonus!_

_Talk to you later._

_*click*_

_The humans aren't getting any better about Asgore . . ._

_I really don't see a way out of this._

_What if I'm the guy who enables_

_. . ._

_genocide?_

_That's stupid, Gaster, get a grip on yourself, man._

_Asgore is in control_

_I mean, he didn't take my advice to hang back in that last maneuver but_

_But that was his decision_

_He's the King_

. . .

. . .

. . .

Molly's Log March 16, 2016 1:01 AM Eastern Standard Time, **DAYLIGHT SAVING Time Initiated.**

"Triple meaning bonus" You won't know what he's talking about for a long time, sorry. :P

I just watched Zootopia and it was creepy how they seemed to be playing on some of the same themes I've written for this story. Except, I actually do have the predators retaining a little bit of their wildness, and they are by no means a minority in this society. Spiders aren't either, it should be noted, for politics' sake. They just have disadvantages and prejudices to deal with. And, as you could imagine, a society with so many factions does not form a majority opinion easily. I'll probably explore that later. In Europe and Canada, as far as I'm aware, they have a system that is at least somewhat more fertile for than two major parties to form. I'll need to do some reading on that.

So apparently I'm so out of touch that my watch has been set a day ahead for who knows how long and I've only just noticed it. Wow. Absent minded much? Also my circadian rhythm is not adjusted from Daylight Saving Time yet. One of the cool things Benjamin Franklin "invented." Really amazing how revolutionary _ **ideas**_ can be every bit as impactful as real things built, huh? Did you know that it's "Saving" not "Savings"? So, like, saving a princess, not savings as in a bank account. Interesting.

It saves power, by arranging it where light is longer when more people are awake.

I wonder if we converted back to a Lunar calendar rather than Solar, how we would assign when to initiate Daylight Saving?

Also, it may literally help depression, since sunlight and resultant Vitamin D are known to alleviate mild to moderate cases, and lack of them is labeled Seasonal Affective Disorder (and can induce sleep disorders as well, especially when coupled with artificial light and blue light from a computer, which tricks your brain's sense of time. There's an easy to download program called F.lux that can help this.)

_"Early to bed and early to rise_

_Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise."_

You have to wonder what kind of effect this has on _**diurnal** animals/monsters living **underground.**_

Yeah, so, not only did humans trap them there, and break their spirits, they also predisposed them to depression physically. Of course, I'm sure they didn't know that at the time . . .

Gaster is an insomniac, but that's for additional different reasons, as you'll see. The spiders of this world aren't diurnal, even though _most_ spider species in the real world are. They had different evolutionary pressures. They're crepuscular.

Another reason why they are not as bothered by being Underground.

Maybe I should have actually introduced that _**in**_ the story. But. Eh. I could revise it later, I guess.

Some other tidbits from browsing online:

_"Throughout its long and fascinating history, daylight saving time has had a remarkable impact on a wide variety of unexpected areas-from Middle East terrorism to feuding twin cities, voter turnout to time-change riots, radio stations to trick-or-treaters, and opera performances to manslaughter charges."_

_"Daylight Saving Time (Summer Time) is usually not helpful in the tropics, and countries near the equator generally do not change their clocks."_

_"Many states restrict bars from serving alcohol between 2:00 a.m. and 6:00 a.m. At 2:00 a.m. in the fall, however, the time switches back one hour. So, can bars serve alcohol for that additional hour? Some states claim that bars actually stop serving liquor at 1:59 a.m., so they have already stopped serving when the time reverts to Standard Time. Other states solve the problem by saying that liquor can be served until "two hours after midnight." In practice, however, many establishments stay open an extra hour in the fall._

_In the U.S., 2:00 a.m. was originally chosen as the changeover time because it was practical and minimized disruption. Most people were at home and this was the time when the fewest trains were running. It is late enough to minimally affect bars and restaurants, and it prevents the day from switching to yesterday, which would be confusing. It is early enough that the entire continental U.S. switches by daybreak, and the changeover occurs before most early shift workers and early churchgoers are affected."_


	13. Two Types of Parties

Gaster looked _very_ askew at him.

"What?" Asgore asked.

The man looked away, back again, tucking some more hair. "It's . . . it's improper."

Asgore perked up. "What is it? An idea? A request?" He was eager to see some more of **_that_** creativity, too.

"No, not like that . . ." he said slowly, "I'm just . . . curious about something, but . . ."

"Well have out with it, then."

"It's . . . about you and Toriel."

"Ah." Asgore breathed. The spider didn't want to ask intruding questions about other partners. Asgore considered him for a moment. "Does it have to do with anything we're doing now?"

"No." the spider shook his head.

"Well, as long as you don't want . . . say, a play-by-play, why don't you go ahead and ask. I might say I want to keep it between us, but maybe not."

"I'm remembering Asriel's," the man swallowed at the name, and Asgore tensed as well. They passed a long look at each other. "Asriel's baths."

_"Come on, I just heard about this really great place," Asriel urged his older cat friend._

_"I'm kinda in the middle of a bath."_

_"And it's time for yours." Toriel snatched him up. The scritch scritch of her combing tongue mussed up what little tuft of yellow he had._

_"Mom! Mom, you're messing up my mane!" He wrangled from her grip. "Okay, okay, I'm clean, can we go now?"_

  
_"So where are we going? It better not be any place dumb."_

_"No, it's really cool."_

_"So, where is this really cool place?"_

_"Oh, uh, around the Waterfall."_

_"Hm," Toriel studied her son, knowing full well he was trying to spin a story. The previously immortal woman and bookworm could read the tone like an open book, too. He probably wanted to go to the Ruins. He'd been talking about it for weeks, after all. It was the furthest reaches of the Underground, as close to an adventure as he was going to get, she thought sadly. "As long as Gaster goes with you."_

"He complained how scratchy it was." Gaster remembered. "How . . . can Toriel pleasure you if . . . ?"

Asgore chuckled. "Very, very carefully, that's how. Sometimes she'd wrap it in a thin damp cloth. Good thing I have an ox tongue, huh?"

The spider smiled awkwardly. "Considering she is . . . ah, non-keratinized, as all women, and you are, even more so than most men . . . yes, that's quite a good bit of luck. "

Asgore's own smile grew predatory. "Unless we agreed upon beforehand that I was up for a little rough treatment."

The spider's face fell in horror. " _You're not serious?_ "

The part-dragon laughed. "Yep. Also done very, very carefully. Not very often, but it did happen."

"Well I knew dragons and lions are made of sterner stuff but that is . . . " he shook his head, "unbelievable."

"One man's pain is another's pleasure."

The chimera wrapped an arm around him. "Can you imagine, being a poor little drunken rabbit and getting taken home by a cat? Doesn't really matter which gender is which, both are bad. They're at a party. Neither of them is sober enough to have good judgement or communicate properly. I know of a cat lady who was tried for sexual assault against a rabbit man, and you would not believe the heated debates on both sides of who was more at fault."

"Pffft, and human laws have trouble even distinguishing that assault _can_ happen to a man." The spider rolled his many eyes.

"The cat was poorer and the rabbit middle class, so of course guess who had better representation. But I suspect the judge himself was sympathetic to the cat. They try to remain impartial, but, strictly speaking, it's impossible."

"I'm glad you don't bring that kind of thing up with me."

"Well, that's not your specialty, politically or legally speaking. And the predator courts aren't open to you anyway."

"Somehow I think that wouldn't matter to you, since you've already let me in on so many other things."

"True."

"So, tell me again how cases like that are placed? If it's a mix of the two types?"

"Everything involving a predator and battery is automatically put in the predator courts. If it's civil, it stays open to the public."

"Oh, rabbits . . . That sprite out at Snowdin, Grillby, was it?- tells me about some that frequent his bar, dejected as all get out. You have to wonder what the little things have been through. And to make matters worse, some of them want to drown their troubles in _more_ relationships. Or not even relationships proper. One of the _**many**_ reasons most of my people don't drink. We may be small, but we can defend ourselves just fine when sober."

"I've never dueled someone with six arms." The warrior glanced over at him. "Do you want to have a match sometime?"

"A _spider_ against a _**dragon kin?**_ " The scientist looked at the chimera like he had two heads. Which was really funny, considering some of his ancestors _did_ have more than one head.

"I would hold back. It'd be just for the experience. To see you in action."

The spider still didn't look like he liked the idea. "Considering I'm sworn to protect you, as your subject and close to right hands man-"

The part-dragon chuckled. "You are my right hand- hands- paw- claw- man," he winked, combining all the different sayings of species, taurs, spiders, mammals, reptiles.

The spider started in surprise. "Well, all the more reason _not_ to-"

"Oh come now, Gaster, now you're just hurting my lion pride. Do you think you could hurt me that much?" He was _completely_ joking, but the pacifist spider's anxiety was turning severe.

"I-I don't _mean_ it that way- and I would **_never_** -"

"All right, all right, relax." Asgore relented. "If you ever change your mind, just tell me. I'm interested because . . . You have an _advantage_ , really, with more than two hands to strike with."

"Yes. In a manner of speaking. But only if properly trained and plenty of work has gone into it. We don't naturally have independent control of our arms. If left unsupervised we move them more or less in sync. Which, isn't a bad thing, unless we have to deal with something other than climbing . . . like integrating into a society with animals more powerful than yourself. Other spider clans didn't bother as much, because they kept to themselves." The spider looked at his many hands, resting in a jumbled pile on his lap, and there was a long pause. "My father described to me in excruciating detail what a scaley bird's talon would do to me in throes of 'loving' passion. Forget a hawk, even just a blue jay or a robin. Then he handed me a bottle of wine and said, 'Your choice.'"

"And yet people _still_ have the _nerve_ to suggest small business owners shouldn't be allowed to have one-species-only bars. They clamor for across the board integration. _Really_ now. We're **_not_** humans. _Stop_ emulating them."

Asgore thought about what he had said for a minute. "Is that why your children always seem to be 'training' when they 'play'? That's . . . actually sort of awful. That we necessitate that . . . and of your youngest, even . . . "

"Nonsense," the small arachnid returned. "Only _actual_ assault is bad. We cannot snap our many fingers and change social mores. We choose instead to take responsibility for ourselves. In my personal opinion, the general air of uncertainty pushes us to be better and more skilled than we would be otherwise. We are _surer_ now. We still fear somewhat, yes, but it would be much worse if we weren't at least doing what we could. We don't let that fear rule us. And end up gaining a sense of security and accomplishment. In a roundabout way, it even keeps us safe from each other as well. If one person gets angry enough to attack, that is sloppy, and the target has the advantage. It is still quite a bit more calculated a move to actually win and do any damage. It takes . . . hmm," he nodded, "more forethought. _More_ malice. From other species, too. Which, no one has just by dint of training. And more effort. A higher threshold, 'activation energy' as in chemistry, or, 'barrier to entry,' to use an economics term. We have a weak 'market' for violence . . . precisely _because_ we train in martial arts. Even if our philosophy did not specifically include pacifism. We do not allow ourselves to be enticing prey. For hatred **_or_ ** for attraction. In a society like the humans', people are wholly unprepared for assault, and it takes them by surprise as well as scars them- even if they survive."

The predator smiled. That was an interesting take on the matter. "If only rabbits would follow your example. So they wouldn't be perpetual victims. But, shouldn't _children_ at least have the leisure of true play?"

"'True'? What is 'play' but having _fun?_ " The philosopher asked in return. "If we make up ways for _learning_ to be fun, no matter what the subject or skill, it's exactly the same as empty, idle play. Especially to a child." He paused. "But, you know, it goes for adults as well. For example, educational videos that have jokes and nice visuals are more engaging than droning voices. I'll tell you, that general principle is how I got to be so good at what I do."

Asgore nodded as he recalled his idea about tickling.

_Anachronistic Arachnid #8 Log_

_A non-sapient monster has been following Frisk around. The cute little buggar is fluffy and bipedal. Long ears and catlike tail. No one knows where the thing came from. Toriel examined it, but she said she didn't recognize the species. She just used monster taxonomy terms to classify it as best she could. She said that maybe it means there are surviving monsters out here, civilizations aside from the Underground._

_WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_

_We're going to throw a party in the lab. Alphys and Undyne are going to look simply resplendent. I can hardly wait._

_Asgore's got this whole set up where- well- you know how in Indiana Jones- oh wait, you wouldn't know that movie, would you, past Doctors? Heh heh heh. Um. They had the trails of tar to enable fire lighting up the underground treasure room, in order to see. Well. We've rigged up a winding trail of just a bit of alcohol- taken all safety precautions of course- and he's going to light it up. It will only burn for a few minutes, but it will have a similar breathtaking effect, I think. Get it, "breathtaking" since it will take a dragon's breath to start?_

_Bust out the champagne_

_And frothy spray_

_Alcohol's a carcinogen_

_But no one's gettin' cancer_

_'Cause we watch each others' backs_

_And don't overdo the draft_

_I've studied human's culture, and their music_

_I'm a free-stylin' doctor, and yes, I choose this._

_Despite human's best efforts, they can't keep us down._

_We're not foolin' around_

_We're back baby, hope you enjoyed your break._

_'Cause now you're going to pay for your mistakes._

_My King is ever-living, as am I._

_I may sound like a rapper but I am dapper_

_In my black suit and tie._

_Whether or not there's a party_

_I always look the part._

_And with my British Baritone_

_You might be even more confused_

_But that's what happens_

_when you're not constrained_

_By boundaries between different races._

_'Spoken word' poetry is only a slightly different species_

_from rap, ha, after all._

_This little immortal octo-pedal_

_Is going to put the pedal to the metal._


	14. Ethnocentric Kitten

The spider rubbed his chin. "If only there was a way to socially engineer culture to where it was taboo to go into a bar _looking_ for a partner. Instinct _and_ drugs . . . are a bad mix."

"Yeah. I can't make any laws about it, obviously. That would be a severe restriction of freedom. And anyway, humans already tried prohibition. That was a disaster. We make education programs, but that's all voluntary and I don't want to make them graphic enough to scare people."

"It's what my father did."

"Hm."

"What do the humans do to discourage drinking and clubbing?" the spider asked.

"I . . . don't think they do much of anything."

"Oh."

"Well, as Toriel says," the spider's stalk-like form seemed to wilt at the mention his missing friend, "their stakes are not as high."

"Or maybe they just don't care as much about prevention," Asgore said snidely, baring his teeth. "Or protecting their children. Or even taking care of _themselves_."

The spider glanced at him, and away.

"What?"

"I . . . just really don't like the way you talk about them, sometimes, Sire."

"Please don't play that card on me, Gaster. I got enough of that from Toriel."

"I'm not playing tricks." The spider hunched, "and I don't think she was either."

"All right," the part-dragon said sternly. "but I just don't want to hear it."

"Yes sir." The spider said softly.

"And she _did_ try plenty of rhetorical maneuvers on me." The part-dragon sighed. "Maybe she doesn't like the apocalyptic framing I use for the fight once we get out of here, but it really invigorates everyone."

"I don't believe how quickly they've romanticized the wars," the spider shook his head, and seemed to be reliving something that very moment, as his gaze tuned out.

"They'll realize," Asgore reassured him.

"Since _you_ want to do as much of the fighting as possible, and keep them out of it, how are they supposed to-"

" _Gaster_ ," Asgore cut him off sharply, and the spider, surprisingly, looked defiant for a moment.

Then he relaxed again.

You can't fool me. Asgore thought. You always get the most upset at **my** being in danger. Maybe other spiders expect you to resist this on ideological grounds, and you've done enough sidestepping to successfully conceal your perspective. But. **That's** what always triggers you.

The spider just didn't have any idea how powerful he would be. He could tell him in numbers- magic had units after all- but it wouldn't sink in that he'd be nearly indestructible until the doctor saw it for himself, it seemed. This was magic that was carefully guarded by dragonkin, so other monsters didn't have the firsthand scope. Those who utilized it almost always got ganged up on by other monsters if they didn't get widespread approval first. Despite the lure of power, there had been checks and balances to keep it off the battlefield, too.

He wondered if other monster civilizations turned to it to survive. That was possibly the worst thing about being down here. Having no communication. Not knowing what happened to the rest of the animals. They had been hemmed in by all sides on humans and had to resort to espionage to get messages through their territory. And he didn't doubt humans had told other monsters that they had been wiped out, to prevent them from attempting to break them free.

At the very least, he knew the underwater strongholds were all right. Before they were contained, he had gotten word that they were working on magic that would allow land dweller refugees.

"As you point out, the logistics of wiping out humans completely is out of our grasp. Even if I do manage my plan. Most nobles realize that, and I suspect most of the people actually do, too."

"Don't give them too much credit," the fellow noble sneered.

"Oh Count, ye of little faith."

"Faith? Puh. Don't bring theology into this," the doctor teased back.

"Rhetoric. That's the way it goes sometimes with politics, but . . . Go ahead and straightforwardly call me bigoted if you must, but no angling around the issue."

"I would never." A flicker of a smile flew across his fangs. "Ethnocentric, perhaps."

The king chuckled. "Oh yes, I will gladly accept that, Doctor. And you don't consider yourself to be so?"

The spider narrowed his many eyes. "Erm, I think, since we won't have contact with them for a very long while, it's kind of a moot point, isn't it?"

"Are you _dodging the question_ , little spider?" The man really was an expert at deflecting and redirecting. He got an image of himself as a kitten, playing with a tangled ball of yarn, rolling over and getting his sharp claws caught in it. Maybe it was sticky yarn, like a web's strings. Haha.

Watching him daze other less sharp monsters was sometimes amusing, too. He had no doubt the Doctor gained some sense of twisted enjoyment out of it as well.

"Actually, no. Think about it. Their culture will have changed substantially by the time we get out. Seems pointless to hang onto our opinions of it as of now. Might as well start thinking of it as a clean slate."

"Ah." He rested a hand on his shoulder. "Once again, Doctor, you outpace me."

The five eyes looked genuinely prideful for a moment, flattered by the compliment. The small spider seemed to grow just a hair bigger.

Wow, so _that's_ what that looked like. He hadn't seen that look in quite a while. He would get it to come out more. To draw it out. His next chase and hunt, Asgore thought.

The older man looked over to the other side of the room and said in warm baritone, "Your canvas is still waiting."


	15. FireWood Carving

Asgore once again recited his lines and drew upon his telementaling to begin working on his image. 

First he reached into the soft pine wood and called it to him, creating the mountains in relief from the sky. Those parts were decompressed from the rest of the rings. He could feel their contours under his magic, like age lines of a wrinkled face. The slab had the youngest rings facing towards him, as per usual. Some artists prefered to wrestle with the much older wood, especially hardwoods, creating impressionism that monsters called “Gnarl Snarling.” 

Wood elementals had carefully fused three different slices. He could tell that this one was made of three different trees, to get this ten foot width. Farther up, they made smaller and smaller ones to sell. Sometimes canvases were made all of one tree. Unlike white cloth canvases for painting, tree canvases had no standard sizes. ‘The tree will decide what will be immortalized on itself,’ as the saying went.

More modern artists who made their own canvases cut geometrical shapes and fit them together in a square, creating several different directions of grain and slightly fractured images referred to as “Mirror Shards.”

After he was done forming the pointed peaks, he lit a paw and began burning dark shadows at their bases. In the sky, he burned more mildly and left the original wood color as clouds. 

Then, he extended his claws and scratched up the front of the board, to imitate grass stalks of a field reaching to the observer. He made smaller and smaller scratches until he reached the point where he pictured the forest began. 

He sang another self-styled spell,

_“Though your light is snuffed_  
I can still huff and puff  
I’ll alight this candle  
With a green mantle” 

Though the surface of the wood was burned, he reached down into the unharmed layer just beneath and breathed deeply, blowing a bit of magic. In response, the wood put out buds of very shortened pine needles, tiny trees that would line the mountain’s skirts until they reached the image’s snow line. They would stay green as long as they were under the occasional care of a wood elemental. 

That used to be his favorite part of the process, up until Gaster had suggested something to integrate his very self into the pictures. 

He went to his desk, pulled out a drawer, and grabbed a fistful of his own fur, gathered up from shedding. 

He gestured to the canvas and on cue, the spider stood, walked over to the nearly finished canvas, and opened his mouth.

A tiny glow appeared right in the very middle of it, framed by four fangs. The spider spat sticky string onto the tops of the mountains, and Asgore arranged the fur all in one direction to line up with the contours before pressing them into the webbing with his thumb. His dewclaw stuck out momentarily until he pulled it back. Sometimes he arranged fur in swirling patterns for clouds, but for this one he left them. 

The philosopher nodded appreciatively. “Excellent,” he repeated simply.


	16. Severed Resonance

She was giving a concert today.

Gaster had turned even more closed off than usual as he went about his business and Asgore found himself fretting on his friend's behalf. The spider had told him that if he didn't attend his ex-wife's performances, it would further sour his position among his fellow species. Asgore suspected, however, that Gaster would have gone even if the non-confrontational lot had suddenly changed and desired or tried to make him stay away.

The concert halls had been a joint project of the head scientist and several of his colleagues. They were carved out of the side of the cave, high above the towns, so that practically anyone could get a glimpse of them, though they were only made accessible when needed. He couldn't let just anyone have the spaces at undesignated times, or the sound would bounce around the hard surfaces of the entire Underground relentlessly. Gaster and his team had determined that the dimensions of their whole enclosement roughly resonated to a G pitch, so they discouraged people from playing pieces in that key too loudly, or advised softening those chords particularly.

Stoneworkers could adjust the dimensions of the smaller pockets themselves to suit whatever the musician had in mind. They laid out sheep wool as sound dampeners if requested. The echoing was something spiders in particular were very used to taking advantage of, putting long pauses in their music to give it a chance to reverberate and even sometimes attempting to quiet and sync or syncopate their own playing of the next note with the reflected sound. They called it a self-duet. Rarely did spiders play together with one another when giving shows; however, when dancing was involved, nearly all present did something to contribute. Spiders never gave dancing performances. It was a strictly social activity. Most spiders had a hard time staying put when watching other species dance. Gaster had once compared it to watching someone eat cake and not getting any. Honestly, the his voice replayed in the king's head, I don't understand how any of you manage it. He remembered Muffet spontaneously breaking into a double step when clock chimes would play. The little girl would pout at the shorter hours. He chuckled.

As he looked out from his balcony, birds of all kinds were converging on the halls, forming steady streams of color and rustle. They could not get updrafts in the Underground, as even with the heat from the lava and the contrast from Snowdin there was not sufficient space for them to form. But enough practice with telementaling allowed them to fly nonetheless in the dead air. Spiders, though they were mostly black and brown, could sport every color imaginable: that wide range was only matched by the birds, and their dancing was only matched by the avians' love of the music itself. Many of the dogs, cats, and other species could simply not see the appeal. Worse, a few of them considered music to be the purview of humans and any attention paid to it was tacit approval of humans at large. The chimera shook his head. Surely even the ones who genuinely wanted all humans dead could afford not to let that leak over into their opinions of fellow monsters for their own pursuits.  
He had offered to walk there with Gaster, but the spider smiled and told him apologetically that he was being taken by a bird friend of his. There were advantages to being small, he had winked, implying that he was to be carried.

So, the chimera meandered past the river that wound through their temporary home, leaving great squishy footprints behind him. Many people approached him to talk for a moment, though there were always those that looked like they would faint at the prospect of talking to the huge dragonkin, whether out of respect or fear, his nose would tell.

He always hid the little pang that skipped in his soul whenever it was the latter. Sometimes he had the sharp thought that he was so outgoing and friendly, that anyone who didn't accept that must have issues of their own. Then he had to remind himself that, not only had he personally been devastating and renowned in the wars, not everyone was as highly attuned to predator's demeanor as the rabbit's song he knew suggested. As he looked around, he noted the sub-communities of species, much like the humans' diverse cities that had ethnic subpockets, though many would chafe at the comparison.

Maybe one day, everyone would be able to separate his personal life from his duties and training as a fighter, and his rougher moments. Maybe one day, all the species would mix more freely. Today was not that day, but he saw progress every passing year nonetheless.

He could look back on his long winding life and see progress already made, where these same things sent other chimeras without that benefit into long bouts of sadness.

_Let us take the opportunity while we are down to turn to each other, grow closer together, not rift further apart_

A line from a speech Toriel had written for him crossed his mind, and his soul sent out a stronger pang.

The thought neatly and predictably ran into Gaster. Not having to see Toriel, he thought, was better for his mending process than the spiders' expectation of their Count. Then again, there were so many times where he'd thought he'd be glad to see his fellow dragonkin even if she were spitting angry.

Abruptly his mind looped back to immortality, and something pierced him so hard he was glad no one was near him at that moment.

_I'll get to see that progress because he's gone._

He was suddenly hyper-aware of the mud between his toes, the locked muscles of his legs, the heat bubbling in his belly. He struggled to breath correctly and stumbled in his step.

  
Under no circumstance was his son's death a good thing, he felt like screaming in defiance. Even if it had returned his immortality-

  
Images rampaged through him.

- _his son unnaturally grown, an age he would never get to reach-_

_-chasing advisors from the garden weeks later in fits of absolute rage for crushing a few flowers-_

_-This is my memorial. This is my sacred space. My. territory. MINE. Stay away-_

_-a blurred Toriel blocked the blindly thrown fire barrage that obliterated the matching yellow flowers just the same_ -

- _roaring over a soothing cadence that remained unwavered until she had pinned him to his throne, with a strength of grip that clashed further with her sound. As he gave into it he flooded with shame, spilling incoherent apologies as she quietly reassured he would probably have to do the same for her later-_

And you wonder why people fear you.

The spiders have done nothing to deserve the fear directed towards them. You have.

He focused on the cooling sensation on his feet and away from the unbearable pitch of his head.

_"Not all dragons are violent," Asgore mumbled miserably to Gaster as he tucked his head into his elbow on his desk after the incident, "Eastern dragons aren't. But me . . . "_

_"They evolved in a different environment," the scientist countered._

_The chimera looked around the room, bleary-eyed. "I suppose." He paused. "But I do have some of that cauldron."_

_"But your cauldron is mostly Western. From both sides of your family. You meditate every day. You'll crack it, Sire."_

Finally fresh air got deep into him and he felt like he could recover some.

This was to be a fine night. The Duchess was an acclaimed performer, and he would do what he could to not taint her hard work.

He ran his paws over his elbows, willing his heart to stop hammering as he plodded on.

He climbed the newly formed stairway, other monsters giving the large part-lion wide berth out of plain logistics and not and social reasons.

He excused his way through the crowd to reach the stage. Posted on either side were the measurements of the space. Asgore had doubted that Gaster's idea held any significance to those gathered, though the scientist had replied that plenty of species, bats for instance, had stronger discernment in hearing that could detect the differences of the resonance, like hearing music in a different key. It was exactly the same as providing a program, he said, and even snarked that maybe the uneducated would take an interest in the properties if so prompted.

Asgore rolled his eyes.

He spied the Duchess even when far off. She was hard to miss. With skin sporting an electric green and liberally spotted hands, she was dressed in a slightly darker green and greeting people with the restrained demeanor typical of spiders, yet contentedness rolled off of her in waves. Her daughter had inherited her straight hair and round, almost pudgy face, though most of the rest of her appearance was from her father.

The chimera was actually very glad to see her in such spirits. He wondered if it made Gaster feel worse.

As he approached, her hexagonal placement of six eyes caught him and she waved. He could not see the extra two eyes yet.

He bowed prematurely twice and she smiled at the purposeful playfulness.

When it was his turn, she curtsied. "My King. Mighty is the paw that stays us all."

"And you are looking more well than I have seen you in a while. Does a particularly good arrangement have your soul alight, or am I in the good fortune of finding you happy no matter the occasion?"

"The second," she nodded, "Muffet is manifesting some advanced magical abilities for her age, and I can't help but feel good for her, even if-"

She broke off, and Asgore didn't press.

They chatted a little while longer, and Asgore was relieved to hear Gaster had already said his piece to her. Not only did it confirm that it didn't get in the way of her mood, he did not want to watch the inevitable hardness that always sat between the two as they went through the motions to be polite.

Everyone began to settle and quiet down as she took the stage. Placed in the middle was an instrument twice her size. Hollowed wooden tubes than ranged from a foot long to body length were arranged in a fanned pattern. It was a relatively new invention, as the previously nomadic spiders could not carry with them anything that weighed as much as it did. Smaller versions had been slung over shoulders. Some spiders insisted that their traveling instruments had more 'soul' than the grounded xylophone-like instrument, because they could be passed down as heirlooms and be attached to memories of journeys. But others, like the Duchess and the Count, took it as an indicator optimism of the ability of monsters to thrive Underground, and the 'peace' that enabled experimentation. The philosopher had written a short essay about it that was well-received among spiders and birds alike. The instrument in question could both be struck and channel air through telementaling. Neither it nor its predecessor could not in any way be blown like a pan flute, so it had to work that way.

With her bottom sets of hands, the green spider sent a current to play the first dramatic chord, and plinked out a melody and countermelody with the other two sets of hands. Any other animal attempting this arrangement for spiders would need two partners, but technically only one of them needed to be an air elemental.

The piece continued energetically, mostly rising runs that blurred the spots on her fingers. Then, as it reached a crescendo, she repeated several notes in a rhythm and changed the air chords under them more frequently.

Asgore though he could tell that there was no playing with or around the echoes going on, but the contrast of the sharper attacks of the mallets and the breathy accompaniment was a neat effect nonetheless. The music rolled over him, chasing away the vestiges of the effects of his earlier unexpected memories.

After she was done, the birds stood and crooned a well-known tune that they used to express appreciation, while the spiders clapped, sounding three times their number and easily making up for the wings that couldn't make the sound. A few even started to mimic the birds' rhythm.

Other species present cast weird looks around them at what, to them, was an odd response, but then loosened.

Asgore basked in his peoples' comingling and fleeting happiness.


	17. Restless

Asgore was awoken by a page informing him of a brownout.

He rolled sleepily to a sitting position, bracing himself for the headache that was to come.

The next few hours were a blur of reports from Gaster's team of scientists about the electricity blockage. The head was fully immersing himself in the issue.

Building a system out of whole cloth with new technology had its share of bumps in the road.

Local species leaders and representatives poured in periodically, asking when the power would be back on and if the dysfunction was going to spread. He answered the questions as best he could.

When he finally did see the lavender spider several days later, it was to catch him up personally before he took a trip out to the hubs of power distribution. Apparently the failure had more than one locus.

A familiar face was waiting for him, too: a yellow crablike spider with an exoskeleton. Thick black spikes radiated from his head, shoulders, and elbows. He had a domed shell, also spiked, that even limited the mobile range of his arms. He was quite formidable looking. Anyone who was trained in reading energy, like the king, could feel his health and hardiness were a bit higher than other spiders. He could also use full-body attacks. However, like all of them he relied on skill, not strength.

He wore no protection, unlike the Royal Guard, in order to retain agility. His light orange outfit was elaborately cut and gathered to fit precisely around his unique shape. It fastened around his neck and onto spikes with interlocking metallic rings, keeping the shell visible, but more importantly, able to be used. The effect was somewhat like a spread out, long-sleeved toga, with no division of shirt and pants, but it was bound at the ankles.

He stood in a posture that appeared calm on the surface. But Asgore, the knowledgeable fighter, would have recognized it as loose-kneed and readied even if he hadn't known him and what he was there for.

Now that the citizens were used to having the electricity, they got angry when it was not available. Food spoiled and heaters in Snowdin shut off. Animals that couldn't stand the cold could easily walk away from it and spend a few nights outside like the free-roaming Wildsmen did, if they couldn't afford to stay at a hotel, but that didn't make them happy about it. Sometimes he laughed at the irony of producing power to counteract an artificially induced climate. About as funny as humans putting on heat lamps to keep snakes in air conditioned houses. Like mismatched Russian nesting dolls. But he didn't laugh on days like these.

The creature before him was the best spider bodyguard there was, and he and Gaster had been attacked more than once in the past. Mostly it was drunken mobs, but there had been couple of calculated and masked attacks, too.

"Your Grace." He bowed fully, showing off the black spotted pattern of his shell.

They walked along one of the castle's wall paths, and took an elevator down, and Gaster brought him up to speed.

"The people are restless." The yellow spider grunted after he had finished.

"More than usual. It's been quite a while since a human has been down here." Gaster observed as he strode smoothly- almost glided- along. How he still managed such motion aesthetics even obviously stressed was intriguing to the king. "Those who don't turn to sadness turn to other modes of  _not_  coping," he said in a lofty tone.

The other spider agreed, "Like being in a cave was the worst thing that ever happened to them. Really."

"Once the old generation dies out, and this is all the new knows, I'm sure things will be much better."

Asgore bit back a reprimand for the insensitivity. The two spiders were ticked off for good reason. But he did wonder if this is what they really thought  _all_ the time.

"Our children won't have to put up with this behavior," Gaster concluded, and internally Asgore softened.

The spiked spider led them to a room with windows overlooking the part of the Underground built above lava pits. "Don't want to go to ground level just yet. Too many people. We're going to have to wait until my forward men give the go ahead." He informed Asgore. "They're clearing the way and scouting for any disgruntled groups."

"What do they hope to accomplish anyway?" Asgore muttered. " _You_  are the one who will get it up and running again. Why would they-"

"I am but a part of the team," Gaster said stiffly. "I suppose they figure it will be incentive for everyone else to work harder."

"I don't even think it's that well thought out, Count. To some squashing spiders is nothing," the yellow arachnid sneered. "It gives them an  _excuse_."

Gaster's lip downturned just slightly. "Well, thankfully it's not my job to mentally model lunatics." But Asgore could plainly see him latch onto the train of thought all the same. Even with  _this_  subject at hand, the man never could resist a good puzzle. "Perhaps it  _is_  rooted in that? They think it's better for someone else to have the position."

"Never mind that three other spiders are on the team as well." The spiked spider looked up to the king, "Though I suppose it would be a big assumption on my part to foretell that deci-" he began graciously, but, realizing what he was saying, abruptly stopped.

Asgore didn't want to mention that the doctor was also one of the easiest targets. Well, in terms of _physically_  imposing, anyway. His training and the blasters probably offset that considerably. If only those hastily gathering their grievances knew that, the warrior thought shrewdly. People had this false notion of a small cerebral scientist lounging back in a lab coat, more or less defenseless. Maybe the spider should demonstrate the blasters to the public? It could make the lurkers think twice. Then again, he would never go for that. Too much safety risk. Something could go wrong. He'd never used them in these skirmishes. Spiders invoked safety in numbers.

The other spider turned to his charge. "You'll be fine. I'll make sure of it. The good luck of being born with skin does have its drawbacks, doesn't it?" he said kindly.

"I will not be cowed. And I don't need your pity," the doctor said icily.

Strangely, Asgore had a very visceral response to the hard edge of Gaster's deep voice.

Although the spider was very demure around him, he at times had plenty of bite to spare around others. Asgore found himself torn between finding the doctor's assertiveness exciting in itself, and wanting to step up to him and draw out his typical quietude and deference towards the chimera. Either thought was making him want to remove the bodyguard from the room and explore the two paths.

The protector spider was talking to Gaster, but he only caught the front end. "Excuse me, My Lord, I-"

Asgore first pictured the Doctor using that tone on him, eyes tilted up defiantly.

Then in his mind's eye he drew closer, their size difference and his flare in wordless intensity causing the spider to buckle with apprehension.

' _Say it again,'_  his imaginary self rumbled eagerly, easing his fears.

He was drawn back to the present when the doctor finished forgiving. He noticed the lull.

"I could get you some predator bodyguards," Asgore offered. "They would provide more security. No offense," he added to the other spider.

His square patterned four center eyes didn't change but the two smaller flanking ones almost closed, focusing his gaze involuntarily. Barely perceptible, his chest expanded and one of his lower hands moved. All types of spiders were very expressive, if you knew what to look for, though they took great pains to remain unruffled or conceal when it came to negative emotions. The stoicism hadn't paid off this time. Obviously he  _had_  taken offense and wasn't about to let it go, but he remained silent, probably because of the status of the king.

Gaster shook his head. "I'm already in a precarious position when it comes to other spiders. Best not to abandon our species to rely on others for this. Though, between you and me, I'd prefer that." He paused. "And I expect you to keep that to yourself, too," he commanded his beneficiary in sharp baritone.

There it was again. Asgore spread his feet a few inches.

He had a feeling  _he_ would be restless later that night.

The lower class man regarded his employer for a moment. "Tch. I believe there's  _other_ reasons."

There was something obviously taking place between them as they looked at each other.

After a longer pause he said, "Everyone knows you've thrown in with predators, Count. I don't see why you'd bother pretending. If you want-" He gave a spiked shrug. "I wouldn't hold it against you."

Apparently if Gaster gave that order he would be fine with it, but the suggestion coming from Asgore-

Even though the yellow spider meant no insult, much like the first time, Gaster said tonelessly, "Oh, so you'd like to bow out of your job? After all. Maybe someone will crack you like a lobster claw."

The other man jumped in shock, even without any force behind the words. "Spiders _don't speak to each other_ that way!"

"I will say what I wish."

The yellow spider's six way gaze traveled up to Asgore and back to Gaster. "Count. Predators have had a bad influence on you."

"Call it what you will. But. If I wanted your opinion instead of your protection, your compensation would be considerably less."

Asgore supposed that was the doctor's version of 'I don't pay you to think.'

Not many seemed to know that Gaster had poured his own funds into these projects as well. They did not grasp, either, that spider clans gave titles not based on money, but accomplishment. His family's designs had been freely shared to save lives in wartime. Come to think of it, he was pretty sure the nomadic spiders hadn't had any sort of patent system before joining his society. Not that it mattered at present- his lab was the only place in the small civilization any serious science was done. The point was, his family's legacy as balloon builders did not afford him wealth.

He could publish all the autobiographical information he wanted, but if deaf ears were turned, it didn't make a difference.

Sometimes his daughter was confused as to why they were different from other nobility she mingled with.

In his opinion, the Doctor had every right to be short and clipped right now. He had been up for several days straight trying to get this fixed, and being under threat was additional weight piled on. He was restless, too.

Every time something like this occurred, he had people report to him that rhetoric against spiders spiked in local newsletters. Comments poured into the editor's inboxes, too.  _'Shows what happens when you put a spider in charge'_  was one of the more measured phrases. As if being a spider had anything to do with it.  _'The guy didn't even_ _ **invent**_ _geothermal energy,'_ another one read.  _'He's just riding on the coattails of humans. And doing a bad job at that.'_

Sure, it was easy to criticize when you weren't doing the task yourself. He resisted curling his lip.

He thought it to the scientist's credit that he hadn't cracked from the strain years since. Of course, he also wished he wouldn't keep it all locked away, either. What could that be doing to him?

"So do kindly keep quiet."

"Wow, you're being a real charmer," the yellow spider retorted, "The Duchess really did dodge a bulle-"

"How  _ **dare**_ you-" Gaster started-

But Asgore got to him first. He seized the much smaller species by his collar and growled, "Mention my friend's ex-wife again and see where it gets you." That was the _last_ thing Gaster needed right now.

He hadn't trained for nothing. Usually a spider would turn to mush at a threat from a dragonkin, but he kept his cool.

"I'm sorry for that last bit. But  _I'm_  not the one being oversensitive, here."

Gaster waved at Asgore to let him go.

As for how spider interaction normally went, he was right, but from where Asgore stood, the statement was ridiculous. Offering Gaster solidarity in the face of Gaster's lesser strength would be like a crocodile or a differently hybridized dragonkin attempting to commiserate with him over not having scaly armor. He would probably have a similar reaction himself, though he recognized how out of character it was for Gaster's species. And such a reaction from the other spider from merely a statement of harm, that was normal for spiders, but it was, to him, the definition of oversensitivity.

They passed the rest of the wait in silence, the larger spider occasionally scanning outside the windows and tilting his head, listening for trouble. He ran three sets of fingers along the wall, using a specialized sense some spiders had that could pick up changes in vibration. Finally, he turned to the door and nodded right before another naturally armored spider, this time white instead of yellow, with red spikes instead of black, came in and gave an all clear. As they walked out, the chimera caught a bit of what he said quietly, "Oy . . . Dragonkin for ya . . . snap at the drop of a-"

The king's temperature rose. He had  _barely touched_  him! For someone who  _pretended_  to be a warrior he sure had hasty judgment-

Of course, he  _was_  still a spider.

To Asgore's disappointment, Gaster didn't appear to reply to the accusation.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Molly's Log Tuesday May 31 2016 4:50 pm

Fun fact.

The yellow spider species mentioned here is  _ **Gaster**_ _acantha cancriformis._  Totally unintentional on my part. I just picked the species I had seen before to write this scene and then did some Googling to find out more about it. The other coincidental thing is its shell actually seems to look like a Gaster blaster head-on.

_Gaster_ means "belly." Like  _gastropod_  for snails. "Belly foot." In this instance they use "belly" to mean "abdomen" for spiders, instead of the underside where their legs meet. Makes sense seeing as that's where their organs are. In this story he has more like a turtle shell, on his back, since these humanoid spiders don't have arachnid abdomens protruding out from the last set of legs.  _Acantha_  means "thorn." There are some thorny plants with that name, too. And  _cancri_ , well, anyone who's glanced at astrology might recognize the word root "Cancer" for "crablike." And yes, "cancer" the disease was described by a Greek guy as literally looking like a crab.

Etymology. Wheeeee!


	18. A Damn Dam and a Dame

Another concert by the green spider came and went, and this time Asgore managed to wheedle the doctor into joining him in his study before he went home. He had seen the sort of smothered urgency with which the spider always obliged talking to people before he went to go process seeing her by himself.

Well, this time, the part-lion wasn't letting the prey out of his grasp.

They discussed the musical arrangement for a while, but Asgore went in for the kill abruptly when he sensed an opening- a weak point- hoping to shake the spider out of his self imposed restriction.

"It's okay to cry." Asgore said softly.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"It's u-unseemly," Gaster returned weakly, turning his head away.

"Pff. So is _this_ ," Asgore chuffed in a low bass tone. He pulled out the spider's white shirt tail and began caressing his belly and lower back.

Gaster still didn't look at him, and he didn't return the gesture.

Asgore rubbed his forehead against the side of his face.

He hooked his paws around his back and pulled him closer, but three of the doctor's hands pushed and squeezed his shoulder in a wordless instruction to stop.

"No?" Asgore asked.

Several moments passed before he said, "This is the last thing I feel like doing right now."

"I understand why you'd say that, but I thought I could at least help you take your mind off of it."

The doctor shook his head.

Asgore released him.

"Unless you need . . . ?" the doctor had suddenly snapped to attention, many eyes training on him.

"No, not particularly, though, I'm always game."

" _Always?_ " From Toriel, or other partners, the word might have been teasing, but for the doctor, it was more honest befuddlement. "That's . . . mm . . . interesting."

Asgore rolled his eyes. The doctor 'always' took things so literally. "No, Gaster, I'm not _that_ insatiable."

The spider seemed to relax, reassured.

A bit of sadness poked at Asgore's chest. "Doctor. Tell me truthfully. Is this a problem still?"

"Um," Gaster wrung one set of hands and held the others stiffly at his sides, "It's not that . . . I mean . . . in general I'm somewhat better with touching _you_ than the other way around, actually."

"Really," Asgore hummed speculatively. "Well, that's a shame, seeing as that's one of the best parts for me," he said teasingly.

"Heh. But even . . ." he looked at the floor and almost looked like he was going to start twiddling his thumbs with the second pair of hands. "I think has more to do with your fur than _you_ , if that makes sense. I . . . don't want to make you feel bad but . . . "

"Ha. I understand. You know you can call this off anytime."

The doctor nodded. "Don't mind me. Sorting this out has been a lifelong task. It's not just you. It's not even that you're a man. She-" But he stopped.

He tried to compare the spider obviously being conflicted to other partners trying to figure out how they felt, but none had quite this flavor. Gaster wasn't trying to deduce, as they were, if he loved him, or 'still' loved him, but if he wanted this. Whether he liked it. It was odd, and the lack of clarity sometimes made Asgore want _not_ to touch him. With anyone else, he probably wouldn't, but the doctor often leaned in and picked up his slack when he himself expressed hesitation. It was a bit like reliving that sense of dread when Gaster had _first_ tipped him off that everything was not settled in the spider's head. He wished everything could be more simple. And yet, he didn't regret starting this, either.

"You know. If you don't want to _avoid_ your wife, at least _talk_ to me about it, Doctor."

He again shook his head. "No. There's nothing to talk about. I didn't take care of her, and so now I'm reaping the reward. That's all there is to it."

"With how you are . . ." The doctor's reluctance to intimacy was not just a function of prudishness. His species wasn't even prudish, not technically. Publicly, perhaps, but they only reserved discussions to a select few, ones they were close to, but after that, they were open to each other. The doctor's friends had likely taken his clamming up as a sign he didn't trust or like them enough. "You don't really _blame_ yourself for-"

"Yes," he cut in, "I do. Marriage isn't all sunshine and roses. I knew that going in. I probably had a better idea of _that_ than most. I didn't fulfill my end of the relationship."

"But you have it _harder_ than most. _And_ you are ridiculously busy," he reminded the scientist.

"Maybe. That's no excuse."

Although he admired the man's sense of honor, he still thought he was being very myopic.

He had an obligation to the people that far outstripped any other man's struggle to balance work and personal life. Except perhaps he himself. And he had a good idea the doctor _enjoyed_ his work far more than he did his own. Any partner was always a welcome relief from the endless progression of management. For the doctor it had probably almost the exact opposite- 'management' of his relationship . . .

The scientist straightened and tucked his shirt in one motion, with all six hands in different places.

Once again Asgore was impressed with the coordination. While he recognized it was inappropriate for the seriousness of the situation, his mind started wondering if the doctor could put on two socks at once, and tie two shoes. He had to stifle a chuckle at the mental picture.

Even as he praised him internally, though, the doctor grew sadder. His fingers fidgeted with the front folds. "Fulfilling this relationship . . . I don't do a very good job of that, either. I'm sorry."

"Don't give me that. Tch." The more experienced man tutted with his taur tongue. "It's always better with you, but I can take care of myself. I _have_ to. I've never had a partner where that wasn't necessary. With pairing there is always going to be a difference in desire. Our level just happens to be a lot greater than most."

The air elemental cleared the space so rapidly that he automatically went into a defensive stance. The spider hugged him tightly, murmuring thanks.

"I wish my wife would have said that to me," he said thickly.

"I'm used to this difference. That was her first . . . Maybe it was confusing for her," Asgore speculated as he hugged him back. "Because men are usually the more demanding . . . women are more often sated . . . she took it as you not caring."

The spider choked out an affirmative, "Mmm hmm, that's . . . one reason I'm not mad at her, I think . . . and, in a sense, she was right all along, since I . . ." he took a breath, "didn't love her."

The chimera raised his eyebrows in surprise, but then put it together. "You pursued her for her status." The noble said knowingly.

The Count hung his head in confirmation. "I did want to be a good husband. And it still does hurt to have her gone. The same way your cutting me off as your right hands man would," the doctor said softly.

Asgore's face warmed, and his vision blurred with moisture.

They had been so close to that before. Politics had a way of dividing people, even those at the top. And they already had so many _other_ differences to navigate. Surely _now_ that could never happen.

Gaster pulled away, still miraculously dry-eyed.

"You know that no one's ever said that to me? No one." the doctor slumped his shoulders.

"What?"

"'It's okay to cry,'" the spider repeated the king's words under his breath, barely audible.

"Oh. I can believe it. Since my father was part-prey trying to prove himself against predators, and my mother was a lioness among lions, you can bet they never sat me down and discussed showing emotions. Anger was acceptable. Nothing else. Did your parents have some version of that?"

"My father was more concerned over my physical wellbeing than my mental, it's true, but that's-" the doctor narrowed his many eyes in concentration, "that was for spider reasons . . . one of which being that, unlike him, I had skin instead of an exoskeleton. Another being . . . I went out on my own one too many times. Not bringing other spiders with me was foolhardy, looking back on it, of course, but then he'd get very cold and demanding when I'd buckle under his scolding. If I couldn't handle him, he said, how could I expect to handle predators? But taking any amount of vitriol from strangers is easier than your family."

Asgore nodded. "The first one I ever heard it from was, as you can imagine, Toriel. Her family was much more open."

"Yes, even her father," Gaster nodded. "He was such a beautiful creature. Dragon shape and snow leopard spots. If he'd had wings no one would ever be able to take their eyes off of him."

Asgore cocked his head curiously. "You say 'beautiful'?"

"Yes?"

"But he was male."

"So?"

"Well . . . I mean, wouldn't he be 'handsome' then?"

"What's the difference?"

"Oh yes, I forgot, spiders use the words interchangeably . . ."

"Ah, that's right, you don't." the spider nodded. "When we learned English, the difference didn't stick. Our language didn't differentiate. We've had this conversation before."

"When was it?"

"We were pretty young. I think, we were talking about shapes of dresses on girls and how the went with their fur or not. I called your brother beautiful and you . . ." the spider paused, then blew out a bit of air, ". . . erm, took it as an insult. Beat me up a bit."

Asgore's face fell. Sometimes the part-dragon wished he could just erase that time of his life from his mind. Well, technically he _could_ , with mind magic, but that wouldn't do anything for the people affected. And it might negatively affect _him_ , too. God, for all he knew, the memories were keeping him from doing harm now. That he could even forget some of them was a mystery, but then, the workings of the mind were always a mystery. "I'm so sorry."

"I know. And you said so then, too. We got it cleared up, still disagreed perhaps, but. And I was careful not to do it after. For you _or_ him. Not because I thought you'd do it again, but because it obviously upset you. I didn't recall that either until just now. After I'd established the habit, I didn't think about it anymore."

No wonder he didn't remember. It had never come up again.

He smiled as he thought of a way to make up for it. " _You're_ beautiful."

The spider blinked. It didn't have the effect he wanted. Gaster looked guarded.

He sidled up to him for good measure and ran a hand down the front of his coat. "You are."

The doctor looked like he was trying to sort out a very complicated puzzle, but this was so simple.

"Crisp," Asgore went on, "and striking, and . . ." he rested his hands on his hips, "beautiful."

"You think so?"

Why in the world would he need him to say it a fourth time? Asgore wondered. "You don't think you're beautiful?"

"Of course I am," He lifted his strong chin, brushed one set of fingertips across his chest, and crossed the two sets of arms. The doctor said it with more vanity than he had ever heard in him. One side of Asgore said he should have found it off-putting, but really the honest confidence made him tingly. The doctor still looked even more as if _he_ were speaking a different language, though. He looked sideways at him. What was it, then?

"You think . . ." the doctor said slowly, eyes far away, " _You_ think I am? With five eyes, no nose? The odd coloration? Odd to _you,_ I mean. Other species don't . . . find us . . . Our women are . . ." he shifted his weight heavily onto one foot. "Our women are often only sought after because other species want the experience of multiple hands. It becomes evident after . . ." his lips tightened.

Asgore understood the seriousness of what he was talking about for other spiders, but he still couldn't see the issue between them personally. "You don't think that's why _ **I**_ wanted-"

"No, no," Gaster said quickly.

"Then why are you so taken aback? I'm _attracted_ to you, aren't I?" Duh.

"Being attracted is much different from thinking someone is beautiful."

"It is?"

"Another way we differ." The spider tapped a finger on one of his elbows thoughtfully. "To spiders, beauty is divorced from physical attraction. Or rather, not divorced, but seen as a Venn diagram." The number theorist's top two hands got busy indicating, "Imagine one with a good bit of overlap, but still not close to the circle's edges."

Normally he would find being thrown for a loop by Gaster fun, but this was just silly. He said something to his lover that should be obvious, that he'd expect he'd appreciate, doubly because he was adopting his species' usage, and the doctor was approaching it like one of his sociopolitical treatise essays.

"Do you see what I mean?"

"Not really."

"Oh come now," Gaster smiled playfully, "you've never _really_ liked the look of someone, but not been attracted to them?"

"I guess . . . sometimes . . ."

"And you've been attracted to plainer women."

Asgore nodded. "And a few men. But the _most_ beautiful ones are all among those I'm attracted to."

"Fair enough, but you still proved my point."

"I didn't want to start a debate," Asgore said in irritation, "I was just trying to pay you a compliment-" he slipped his hands between the crossed arms and the spider's body and kissed him above the mouth- "that _you're_ a beautiful creature, you over-thinking brainiac."

Now the spider looked surprised, as if the embrace and kiss had come out of nowhere. Asgore shook his head internally. Gaster had no sense of atmosphere, setting, or romance, and now the king's amusement _was_ returning. He remembered the same thought the first time he had gone in to kiss him.

"Well," Gaster unwound his arms so Asgore could press up against him fully, "that last bit was a compliment too, no matter how you intended it," he said, keeping up the playful air.

"Heaven knows I used worst insults against you when we were younger," Asgore grew more serious, gazing into his eyes intensely. "I'm sorry. For everything. I envied you."

The spider blinked again. "You did?"

"Yes. I can memorize plant species names and their workings. That's science I'm good at. But deciphering math, or applying physics creatively to come up with things to build? That was always your gift."

Ah, there was that delicious way the spider would look whenever he did manage to make him see how wonderful he really was.

"I'm sure you had this figured out, but," the spider bent an arm and caressed his wrist as he laughed, "I envied you, too."

"Yes, it was pretty obvious," Asgore teased, "the powerful warrior prince- you looked 'up' to me even in the brief stretches of time when you were taller," he punned.

"You always outweighed me," the scientist pointed out, "height doesn't necessarily measure strength. And magic, well, I started on the blasters because of that."

"Really."

"Yes. But now I have a much better reason to finish them," the smaller man interlaced his slim fingers.

He puffed out his chest.

"To keep you safe."


	19. Fearsome Father-in-Law

Months later, Asgore awoke from a _very_ bad dream.

It made his other predatory dreams look like harmless playing.

Was that even _possible?_

He had transformed into a fully-fledged dragon and-

His breath quickened. He'd really like to have Gaster here with him, but if they were going to keep this a secret he had to go to his study.

His body felt like lead, and his mind tried to will it to climb out of bed and put on at least a nightgown, but it would not comply.

* * *

_In the past._

Toriel sipped her tea, watching him with a beady eye. He could tell she wasn't convinced of his pure intentions in visiting her at the Ruins. "Isn't it funny, your father picked me for my ferocity, and yet when push comes to shove I just don't have it in me."

Asgore was transported to his father's side again.

" _Asgorrrrre." His father's growl sent shivers through the teen's body as he loomed over him. "Why have you been wearing robes that hide your tail?"_

" _It scares people." The prince said of his manticore tail, head bowed._

" _You're going to need that fear when you face humans in combat. Use every weapon in your arsenal. Including manipulation," the wise semi-serpent advised._

_"That's completely different. I'm talking about normal life. Sir, I . . . I just don't like it when it twitches and people flinch as if it's going to strike at them."_

_"Then control it." His father replied unsympathetically._

_"This is easier, and why should I?" The teen countered._

_"What will your mother think?"_

_The boy started._

_The manticore would have been hurt at the implication that he didn't like his physical inheritance from her._

_His father sighed. "You didn't think about that, did you? You're lucky I noticed first. She's so busy it would have taken her a little bit. She doesn't let intimidation get in the way of communicating, Asgore. I know you're trying to find your own way around this, but don't insult your mother in doing so."_

_The prince's mind worked quickly. "The Queen may be a social butterfly, but she intimidates people intentionally. What are you trying to pull?"_

_His father smirked. "Ah, you caught that, did you? Smart boy. Good. Well. I was going to try to play your little pity game. So now let's get straight to the point. Not only do I not like to see my wife distraught. No son of mine will be ashamed of his own body. You_ _**are** _ _a manticore. A dragon. Not some desert lizard lady or scorpion who hides her face. Just because the tail looks like them, does not give you the right to treat it as such."_

" _I'm not_ ashamed, _I just want to put people at ease. Besides, they don't_ _ **all**_ _do that because they are ashamed. Some of them do it even if they leave their families and culture. They believe in making people focus away from their bodies."_

" _That girl been filling your ears with lies, my son?" The older chimera sneered. "I don't know why we even allow them here. If it were up to me . . . but your mother's in charge. She's the title holder, after all. And why do you spend time with her? I thought you fancied Toriel?"_

_Asgore stammered, "D-dad!"_

_The part-taur bellowed out a chuckle at his son's embarrassment and adjusted his hands. "Again. Nothing to be ashamed of. No son of mine will be ashamed of his own body. Hold your head up, son."_

_Asgore did as he was told, looked him in the eye and squared his shoulders._

_"That's right. I've eyed quite a few species in my time. No harm in looking, eh, Asgore? Long as you're respectful about it. Even covered lizards have a kind of intriguing way of moving, don't they?"_

_"That's not the only reason I like her, or talk to her." the teen muttered in objection. "Far from it."_

_His father ignored him. "And Toriel's a fine young lady, too. She would make short work of that sand spitter and roast her on a spit. HuaUhaa."_

_"Toriel would never do such a thing," Asgore stiffened rebelliously. He thought purposefully of Toriel's warm laughter and her flowing unicorn tail flashing in the sunlight, to push out the image his father had handed him, of his friend's charred body and robes._

_"Ah, but she could, and that's precisely the point." The royal nodded. "She has to hold her own with you. That little cabal of whiny prey peasants clamor for equal treatment, but if they knew the truth they'd be running for their hidey holes. You know full well the reason we segregate our children. Sugary lies are easier for people to swallow than the cold truth. It's nicer for them to believe we just look down on them for the sake of it, value them less, especially when they ask for justice after . . . mishaps. They'd be asking for complete segregation from us, our adults, our power, our culture, everything, if they knew the full story. And Toriel, clever girl that she is, understands this as well. Doesn't she have a sphinx in her family, too?"_

" _No cauldron relation." Asgore replied. "Just chosen for close compatibility with a lion."_

" _Ah. Right. By marriage. Well, cauldrons aren't the only thing that carry influence, do they? Her 'auntie' is one I wouldn't have minded courting in another life." His voice dropped a few notes. "Sphinxes . . . mmm. Riddles that will put your mind in knots."  
_

_Asgore warmed appreciatively, but still embarrassed, and the similarity to his own mother was not helping his budding adolescence. Screw Oedipus Complex, he thought angrily, but, peeking into the future, his father had told him psychoanalysts proved it right, at least insofar that those who looked like your opposite gender parents were more enticing . . ._

" _Sphinxes love the taste of humans. But, speaking of knots and tying, would you like to hear some tales about what they do to their_ partners _if they cannot answer their riddles? Some divine torture, that is."_

_"No," Asgore said even more emphatically, teeth flashing, reaching his limit._

_"All right. I'm sorry. Maybe when you're older."_

_"I don't think so." Asgore said tartly._

_The warrior considered him. "At your age, your brother was ready to hear-" he stopped. "Well, you're not your brother, are you? You ever have problems, you come to me, hear? This is a pivotal time in your life. You can always gripe to your old dad."_

_Asgore relaxed a bit and nodded._

_His father closed his eyes. "Her old cow of a grandmother likes to think she'll mold Toriel into a honest and straightforward spiritualist, a human-hugger, but if we go through with this contract, she'll get to embrace her warrior ways."_

_Asgore blanched at that. He tried to banish the feeling of being responsible for influencing Toriel that way. That was something he couldn't help, right?_

_Not only did she like him, his family was eager for the match, too. This was bigger than him, a tiny voice protested against the guilt lapping at him like a wave that couldn't decide whether it wanted to stay on the sand or not._

" _Toriel's very lucky to have enough predator in her to be accepted automatically." His father patted his own clothed flank, where Asgore knew a scar of teeth marked his trial by combat. "I had to win the Queen's hand from her clan, but she's already got the stuff . . . " He leaned forward. "And I know you are even squeamish about eating non-sapient animals-"_

_Asgore cringed, absolutely horrified that his father had picked up on that._

_"-but son, you've got to get past that." He paused. "You're your mother's son, all right. She manages to be the sweetest thing on earth that will also turn around and beat you down." He smiled and his eyes drifted as he spoke of his mate. "You've still got to keep everyone in line. I'd like to see one of those puny cats go through what I've been through. Traitors." he spat. "Patting rabbits' heads as if that makes everything all right, claiming to be predators when all they eat is the experimental ether food. Using that position to gain power over those who still look up to them and praise them for that very thing- being 'enlightened' predators. Hypocrites. I'm game for a little manipulation now and again, but that takes the cake. Toriel sees it. She's got fury in her, son, and you're going to draw it out. It will be beautiful."_

* * *

"You have it in you." Asgore replied to Toriel. "I've seen it. But I don't want to talk about this," he backpedaled. "You've made your decision. That's enough. What have you been up to, out here? Without stoneworkers, the Ruins aren't in great shape. I wish you wouldn't stay here. Do you have a means to contact someone if there's a cave in? You've sealed the doors, so no one can get in."

"Whimsuns and Napstablook are in and out of here all the time. Even a few of the spiders know ways to play rescue dog," she chuckled. "And, I could get some stoneworkers to shore it up."

Asgore wrestled with his breath for a moment. "For you to have skilled enough ones . . . That would require me to publicly acknowledge your deserting." His eyes pricked. "I _want_ to give you them, but-"

Toriel looked at her hands. "I know, I know," she said softly. "I'm sorry I mentioned it. I'll be fine."

There was a long silence.

Finally, she blurted, "I could come back if you would just-"

He stood. "No."

"These are _children_ , Asgore," she pressed.

"I don't recall your asking the ages of soldiers whose ranks you tore through."

The room immediately got chiller as the female fire monster went completely still and damped out the warmth.

"I'd guess about 14, maybe some younger."

"Stop it."

"I'm not trying to make you angry." The warrior said evenly. "They were under orders. These are not. And yet you give them _more_ consideration."

"Because I am _able_ to now. Like you say, circumstances are different. But, you think it's just that I feel guilty."

"Your mother did a spectacular job of shaming you for your service."

She shook her head. "But- it's not that. Not entirely."

"I want to know, what is the age of innocence for a human, Toriel?"

She didn't reply.

"I know you've thought about it. You, Gaster, and I spent months reviewing all the records of debates over when to try monsters as adults."

Again, she didn't reply.

"We started fresh in the Underground, since we could. We were free from our parents, horribly, but nonetheless free. Once we had everything settled, we found ways to use the time productively. At our leisure, we reviewed them, and adjusted ages due to most recent knowledge of different mental development stages for all species."

"We lowered the penalties for murder," Toriel replied icily. "So, you don't extend that same courtesy to humans."

Asgore slammed a palm down on the table, and she jumped up to her own feet as well. "Humans don't have instincts like we do. We spend our younger years either learning to feel them out, or letting each other create a pecking order through tooth and claw. A practice I intend to _stamp out completely,_ now that I have plenty of idle time to watch my subjects like a hawk and bring _woe_ to those who oppose me about it. By the time we're out of here, I expect my people to be civilized."

"More calm. Like humans." Toriel smirked.

"Oh yes, always with the human praising. And besides, that's one-off murder, not _serial._ We deal with _those_ quickly."

"Humans come down here, faced with monsters, and you expect them to just roll over and take it. You expect them to do _better_ than monsters do to each other, when faced with an enemy that is so strange."

"You really _are_ stubborn as a bull," he said.

"Look who's calling the china cauldron white."

"They don't even have _dustlust!_ " Asgore cried. "They can slaughter us, and _still_ not crave the dust! Meanwhile, they've put us in here in a _pressure cooker_ where everyone is going to go _stir crazy_. If _we_ kill _each other_ we're in danger of turning into-"

"I know. But that means that they are redeemable for longer. More attempts."

Asgore's frustration boiled over. "They sit in their nice, cushy houses and then think they can bring war to our doors just because they saw a dragon lose it once, or _they_ tried to steal _their_ hoard, or because a lone griffin decides he's _hungry_ and he doesn't _care_ what effect it will have on the rest of monsters."

He growled, and fire billowed from his mouth. "So I ask you again, Toriel. _**You expect me to order everyone, when they see their salvation from this murky muddy prison sentence walking down the street, to serve them tea and cakes?**_ And I'd really love to know at what age you think humans can be held responsible. We've discussed this before. Gaster loves his thought experiments, but these are _real_ people and _real_ lives you're affecting out here."

"Get out."

"Oh, I will. When you answer the question. How old will they need to be for you to _really_ let loose?"

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Humans neglect their inward psychological examination or spirituality but for us, it's a matter of life and death. I thought that would anger _you_ in particular. But it never seems to."

"The stakes are not as high for them. Of course they have less incentive."

"It's _easier_ for them," he snarled, "so that gives them _less_ excuse, not more."

"If that's the way you choose to see it."

Asgore roared, his element springing to his hands. He felt that old familiar serpent rise up from his depths as if from a river of fire. He stood toe to toe with it. It was not his Self, he repeated the mantra. He was the observer, the consciousness. But though it was old, it had a new pain to merge with. _She_ had _left_ him, for _this._ Why couldn't she stay by his side when he _needed_ her the most? He teared up. He had already failed his people, and his world had spun completely out of control.

Toriel sank into a tense stance, fully ready for him.

She was calm, even after the sound had filled the room and the powerful creature stood there blazing. Shoulders rising and falling, he took a step forward. Another.

She said flatly, "Are you going to beat me, then mount me like that lizard girl you got into a fight with?"

The air whooshed out of his lungs and he dropped to a knee.

Toriel pursed her lips, not liking to have to resort to use the leverage of bringing up past mistakes.

The man's gathered tears fell and he tried not to shake. She might as well have extracted his soul and fire blasted it. But, she had to know how to help him keep his temper, whether by being gentle or by being calculated and ruthless. He gulped down several breaths.

Finally, he stood, feeling hollow and empty. "You never liked my father, but this he did whip into me with his tail. ' _Never_ hit a lady, unless she hits first. And even then you have dangerous ground to tread.' If I had listened more, if I had been more like him . . ."

"If you had been less like him, you would have ruined more than just the _one_ marriage contract," she said, not gently or sympathetically, but still controlled enough. "You were an adolescent. For that matter, you were a prince and had immunity. It could have been so much worse, Asgore."

Fire glinted in her eyes. "And let me reassure you. That will _never_ happen to me. So don't you worry about that. You have plenty to worry about as it is. I just didn't want to part with our fighting. However this turns out. I will not die. You will not die. Not by each others' hands."

"We cannot submit to each other, either."

"I would almost call it a dance, because back then it always seemed so romantic. But now, you should leave, and I will stay here. That eager young warrior girl- the predator- is not prowling these halls anymore."

"Promise me you will do everything you can to manipulate these children into liking monsters."

She angled her head away. She didn't answer him at first. "That's the thing, Asgore. I know we're both well trained. But. It won't be manipulation. It will be genuine." Her brow furrowed, and she struggled to get her next words out. "Good luck with your next child."


	20. Recovery

_ Anachronisitic Arachnid Number 8 Log _

_ Oh my gosh, I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.  _

That’s alright, Doctor, I’ll do- hic- wah- hf- all the crying for you. That was amaaazing. This has to be the one really good thing that’s c-come of this terrible t-timeline, hff, don’t you think?   
  
_ Absolutely, Alphys. We’ll be able to look back on these videos and take solace in them. Who knows, maybe there  _ **_is_ ** _ some grand order that balances tragedy with joy.  _

Eh, maybe. My parents’ faith never really stuck to me, though I do practice some of the observances and holidays.

_ Anyone hearing this, we’ll explain what we’re talking about. See, in this timeline, the six souls that were taken from the children that fell down? They were not lost when Flowey pulled his scheme and tried to bend them to his will. Another thing I find way too coincidental is that the souls each had balanced traits. All we had to do during one of our battles is find a red soul, that had a particularly active first chakra, which deals with survival, and then Asgore was able to align them with little trouble- trouble that would have resulted in a possibly unstable form, or at least one that would need more balancing and tweaking, that may have interfered with the childrens’ ability to be relatively autonomous even while being part of him. Oh, and the adult of the bunch, too.  _

_ Those with highly active fourth chakras- the heart chakra, or Anahata, have always been especially good at healing. Asgore’s green healing is so powerful, we’ve actually been able to prevent some monsters turning to dust even with their health all gone. It’s wondrous, how he can just reach out with magic and pour a little bit of his own almost boundless energy into his followers and recover them. It’s horrible at the same time, of course, because sometimes he has to make split second decisions about whom to save and whom to let die. I know it makes the responsibility all the more visceral and personal for him. I’ve been studying sapient ants- who are similarly synced to their Queen- in order to model the magic he is using and help him adjust to it. I wish I could work with sapient bees, as they are even more interesting, but only humans have access to those. We’ve determined that they keep them secret from other humans, because it is very lucrative. A bee even tried to enter a court case, but it was quickly dismissed and covered up from the general public. I hacked the files and share them with whomever is interested. I hope one day we will free them.  _

_ Anyway, what we really wanted to put in this Log here: Asgore has integrated with the souls well enough to let them talk to people directly. Flowey’s control over them only allowed them action, but Asgore is much more skilled- not to mention more educated and powerful- in magic. All the children are essentially still alive, if not as we know it. This was a hair that Toriel and Asgore split over and over in their terrible fighting when he stuck to his decision- robbing someone of a body is depraved, sure, but it could be argued that Asgore did not ‘kill’ the children. Not really.  _

_ And he will never make them do anything they don’t agree to, unlike a certain plant I’d like to crush the xylem out of.  _

So today was a GREAT day, you guys! Uploads of videos in progress. A contented, warmth-radiating dreamily handsome dragon, surrounded by a rainbow of souls. Aaaaaah, I just get happy thinking about it. 

_ Better not let Undyne hear you talk like that, Alphys. _   
  
Yeah, you’re right. But- but I don’t mean anything by it, really! I can’t help that he is! That’s not changing anytime soon. The main thing is that Toriel got reintroduced to the kids, and- I just can’t even describe how overjoyed she was.


	21. Toriel's Roles

Hello. Um. Alphys Number 29 here. I don’t have a fancy code name for these logs like my mentor here-

_ That’s perfectly fine, Alphys. There’s no need. Don’t sound so sad.  _

Thanks, Doctor Gaster. 

So, uh, I’m just going to get right into it. Timestamp and quantum coordinates, as usual, are shown at the corner of the screen. Our dimension has not gone to war, thank goodness, so I am able to concentrate on stuff like the biological history of monsters. Humans have bioanthropology, where they study their lineages from primates. I’ll be studying where we branched off from non-sapient animals, and what the source of this change was. Most believe it was a combination of magic and genetics. I’ve decided to name this field biosiccology, a Latin term meaning ‘dry’ in reference to monsters’ bloodless bodies and residual crumbly dust at time of death. I wonder if the other Alphyses will take to the term.

  
_ Compared to Asgore’s predilection for naming things- _

  
Mine is pretty darn good, huh?

_ Ha. Though maybe that’s ‘damning with faint praise.’  _

  
N-no, I think it was an okay joke. 

  
_ Really? You’re getting better about not taking things to heart. Good for you! _

Queen Toriel really likes the name. Sans says it’s ‘hoity toity.’ Hee. 

_ Yes, well, Sans can be a major pain sometimes. _

Aw, Doctor, I know you two are having some difficulty adjusting to each other, but, eh . . . considering the circumstances . . .   


Okay, so, back to the science . . . I know from my own family history that I am descended from desert dragons and lizards, though I have a little bit of mammal in me, too. I am willing to bet that dragons were surviving descendants of dinosaurs. Humans have only got scraps of DNA from dinosaurs, so I don’t know if it will work to test them against dragonkin, but we’ll try. 

Having other universes to exchange research with is great! Especially since, in ours, we haven’t found any other monster-run universities, and in other worlds, there are no other surviving monster civilizations at all.   
  
We’re going to try figure out why we sapient animals started turning to dust.  
  
 _When she says ‘we’, the doctor means herself and some of the interns. This isn’t my field, though I will of course be eager to hear about progress on the subject._ _  
_  
Compared to you, I might as well be an intern.   
  
__I suppose. I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or scold you for getting down on yourself again.

Why not both? 

_ Heh heh heh.  _

Can I study you, too, Doctor?   
  
_ Hm? _

You turned out still skeletal, as you were in the void, when you were put back together here, unlike a lot of other Doctors in this cluster of events. It would be interesting to know more about you. I’m sure Papyrus would be fine with it, but Sans doesn’t tend to like being poked and prodded. 

  
_ Um. I suppose it would be all right. Do you think having two pairs of arms will interfere with the results? _

Hard to say. With you being reformed, who knows what your genes have rearranged as. If they have, that is. Shapeshifting is complex. 

Anyway, we’re getting sidetracked again. For my own hypothesis, I think turning to dust upon death was an advantage for prey to not provide any nourishment, and then they spread the invoked magic modifications of their body to other species. Once ancient tribes of predators started learning that those that gave off magical energy could not be eaten-

Well, there is one caveat I need to add to that. Unfortunately, there are certain advantages to killing other monsters, but- but that’s a tangent I won’t go off on here. 

_ Yes, let’s not. I’ll need to edit this video for universes that still have that knowledge under wraps.  _

_ Our royals have several things they keep from the general public, that being one of them . . .  _

_ Oh, and I should probably edit out my comment about Sans, too. Need to keep this all professional.  _

Yeah. Number 8’s edited footage tends to show much more tweaking than anybody’s, even pairs of us that go off on these tangents. It skips a lot. 

_ The man is under a lot of stress. He needs to vent. But, I think we, like him, should keep all of the outtakes, just to make sure we don’t miss anything, as even interpersonal relationships can prove to have butterfly effects. All under digital lock and key, of course.  _

You know Sans can hack things almost as well as I can, right?

_ Yes, but surely he wouldn’t- _

_. . .  _

_ That look you’re giving me does not reassure.  _

It’s not supposed to. 

_ Well, do you think we should delete it completely, then? For timelines like ours, the stakes aren’t as high.  _

Y-you’re going to give me a say?  
  
 _Have I been overriding you that much?_  
  
Um, about a lot of things, yeah . . .

_ Oh, Alphys, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize. I get so caught up.  _

You tend to run a tight ship . . . b-but it’s not so bad. I think I’ve actually . . . toughened up a bit. 

_ Well that was certainly not my intent, Alphys! Though, had you known me before I got split up . . . ugh. Actually, I don’t like picturing that.  _

Y-you’ve been nice plenty too, d-don’t worry about it. We’ll pick this back up later. After we review the tape. 

So, where was I? Right. I plan to start work on a Monster Genome Project, to compliment the human one. This will be really difficult, because you see, even human cells will start to die off in culture if not given certain supplements. For example, cholesterol. Only liver cells make that. Other cells must be given it. Any part of a monster that is removed- tissue samples- are extremely fragile, and must be supplemented with magic. They turn to dust very easily. Isolating genetic code, which itself is not living, and therefore has no magic at all, is even tougher. 

Queen Toriel is joining the project, and she’s super excited. She’s putting together lectures for human children about how monsters still have white blood cells to fight infections, despite lacking a circulatory system like humans’. Humans have white blood cells that crawl around in the parts of their tissues that are bloodless, too. 

  
_ Anachronistic Arachnid Number 16 Log _

_ Note that our timestamp is behind Number 8. We’re fortunate to have synced to him in front of us. We’ll probably be covering some things that he’s already released, but I hope to fill in some more detail as well. He had to plunge headfirst into his Asgore’s transformation with the souls. We’ve had a little bit more time to study it.  _

_ Asgore scoffs when I just plainly call him a dragon. He's a 'counterfeit' one, he insists. The magic he integrated just granted his boyhood desire to be a dragon. It reached back in time, he said, and probed his mind. He hadn't sincerely wanted that for ages. _

_ Tosh, say I. _

_ So you’re still chimeric? Unless you specifically don’t want me to refer to you as one, you are. I don’t care what the genetic tests come back as. _

_ See, there are many types of shapeshifting. Some have an effect on genes, and some do not. Broadly, for major changes, cells adapt to the newly projected blueprint. For minor changes, cells more or less go about their business and only modify things that are absolutely necessary. _

_ Toriel is studying this closely. Gastropods are a particular personal fascination for her, but any biology is fair game, especially the kinds that will help us survive. She says, think of an animal, for example, that gained a vertebra by mutation. Evolution is adding and subtracting bones all the time. The cells that aren't directly involved in the embryonic formation of that vertebra? They wouldn't need to change their genetic code to form a spinal cord or muscles around it. They would simply read the signals from the surrounding cells to find out what needed to get built. The repetitive pattern is a collective construction. The difference between a liver cell and a muscle cell, after all, is not their _ **_identical_ ** _ genes, but what their neighbors  _ **_tell_ ** _ them to become as stem cells. They'd be performing the same function with or without the extra genes. Minor shapeshifting is the same. It usually leaves genes alone. As someone learns higher level shapeshifting, it will be more difficult to change that fundamental basis. That's why shapeshifting sometimes has a time limit, too, especially major kinds. Cells are reasonably good at adapting to different inputs for short periods, but eventually the complex starts to break down. _

_ He's the size of a real dragon now. Just think of all that accelerated cell division! We're going to have to carefully screen him, because the errors accumulate faster than white blood cells and corrective enzymes can erase them. Yes, that's right, increasing your size increases risk of cancer. _

_ The Greeks named the black tumors they found in autopsies ‘cancer,’ and shapeshifters have long known, at least visually, that it was the cause for overly ambitious magic wielders’ deaths, though now we know the mechanism for it.  _

_ Conversely, decreasing your size increases your magic reserves as all that matter is converted to energy. _

_ We're fairly sure healing magic can take care of it all for him, but we're entering uncharted waters here. _

_ Anachronistic Arachnid Number 14 Log _ __   
_   
_ __ I’d like to add the voice of my universe

_ to the chorus  _

_ Of resounding success  _

_ Spreading the Queen’s family’s teachings. _

 

_ Central: Predators do not have to be content with their heads’ content! Haha! They can clear their minds. _

 

_ Predators in this corner  _

_ of the quantum complex _

_ Have, too, taken up her standard _

_ I am overjoyed to hear  _

_ In other coordinates,  _

_ that the King carried them forward _

_ Even when she was absent. _ __   
  


_ Anachronistic Arachnid Number 8 Log _ __   
_   
_ __ Queen Toriel and I are developing something of paramount importance. How to educate humans in the differences of our handling of mental health. This is a touchy issue. I don’t know how many times I’m going to have to edit and re-edit these. I know I’m going to get bad reactions no matter what. But, we’ve been pressured to explain, due to much of the friction that helped kick all of this off. There is one culprit in particular, but-

_ Anyway. Here are some initial thoughts. Tagging this video for my private, encoded logs now.  _

_ Dragons of course, can do the most damage. They are the most dangerous, so logically you’d think we’d imprison them first, or the longest. If in fact your logic accepted the fact that we have to treat different monsters with different punishments in the first place, based on their power, which we do.  _ __   
_   
_ __ Deterrence is more important for those who have the worst potential. 

_ But. It’s already difficult to contain a magic wielder. We can never simply leave a strong monster unattended in prison cells.  _ **_No one_ ** _ can contain a dragon, and slaying one even with multiple other dragons on your side . . . is nearly impossible and dangerous to other lives in itself . . . they can’t just override their will to survive . . . they switch over . . . and so to them, most of the time it  _ **_can’t_ ** _ matter. That’s just how it is. _

_ But for other relatively strong monsters who snap- _

_. . . they’re . . .  _

_. . . usually . . . _

_ I m-m-mean, we  _ **_have_ ** _ to d-do it that w-way- _

_ We’re so powerful. For humans who don’t use magic, the stakes aren’t that high. _

_ Alphys thinks it’s unfair. But . . . _

_ It should be noted, that the correlation to violence for mental instability is exactly the same as for the general population, for anyone. That’s not the problem. The ratio only spikes when  _ **_drugs_ ** _ are involved.  _

_ And if you are a human who will be listening to any of this, who hasn’t dabbled in the Arts, trust me when I say there are few things as potent and tempting as strong magic.  _

_ Monsters like to tell each other than humans were responsible for the mass slaughter of dragons. But honestly? It was firstly, their destroying each other, and secondly, a joint effort. Humans recruited monsters for their knowledge of animal magic for the task, and for the most part they did it willingly, needing the humans' strong souls to be successful. The erasure of monsters’ role is an aggrandizement of the human knights. While it’s also convenient for monsters to absolve themselves of their ancestor’s actions, it is not truth. I am fairly confident there are still peaceful Eastern dragons in existence somewhere, and every day I eagerly await the time when I will bump into another quantum universe that has sufficiently settled their own affairs with humans to make long distance travel safe for monsters to find them. I've already heard of one Toriel and Alphys who went to Ireland to search for a particular legend that they believed still existed. Scotland and the 'Loch Ness monster' is the next destination. We ourselves have found jackalopes, though they are almost non-sapient.  Humans call this field "cryptozoology" and those souls were among the first humans to accept the society of monsters in most universes, and even move in, in some cases. In our particular universe, sadly, our public image has been too tainted to foment such friendships. But we hold out hope that we can at least reach more humans. Our supporters are few in number and weak in voice.  _

_ I debate with myself daily (literally and figuratively) on whether or not to let them in on the details of monster psychology and magic. Maybe it would help if they knew some monsters shun it? It isn't a universal societal trait in us, any more than not using magic is a universal societal trait in humans.  _ __   
_   
_ __ Dragonkin and immortals have dedicated organizations to learning and training how to resist. They police each other. Those who don’t put in the work- Well. 

_ We have the equivalent of counseling, that nearly every monster goes to as a matter of course. It’s as routine as brushing our teeth. We don’t wait until someone has already reached a crisis point. The reason most of us are so nice? We have to actively cultivate that. We can summon magic bullets of any element when our emotions are not under control. We can hurt people without meaning to. I’m still compiling statistics on how many altercations have been set off because of that. Now imagine what we can do when we  _ **_do_ ** _ mean to harm someone else.  _ __   
_   
_ _ Back when Frisk entered the Underground, this practice of self-maintenance- which we call magic check-ins- had slacked off, partially because it had been so long since a human had been down there. I’d say that even sapience declined a bit, as no one wanted to train their minds when they were depressed, either. Now imagine generations of that. They did the opposite of humans, who have collectively raised their I.Q.s over decades- called the Flynn Effect. I pretty clearly remember all the simplistic things monsters said to Frisk, and compared them to the monsters I had known in life. That is one reason our timeline has been unable to integrate. Some of us, like Froggits, are only semi-sapient to begin with, too. Add- what do the humans call it?- ah-  _ **_ableism_ ** __ \- add that on top of plain fear, as well as, on the other side, lack of understanding and probably worse fear, which, like all emotions, is linked to magic, and you get a mess. I will not make assumptions about other quantum universes unless I’ve ascertained this, of course. 

_ Dragonkin sometimes physically restrain one another, at great risk to themselves, though they have plenty of health to take hits. They have to give off calm energy when they do this, too, or it escalates. If they try it on the next rung of strength downward, they are still perceived as a threat. It only works on equals, in all but very rare cases.  _

_ Whether a strong monster has killed or not, if they show signs of severe instability, and resistance to change, this is the unfortunate reality. Sometimes, we have to be pre-emptive.  _

_ Had we not ‘culled’ this way, perhaps we would’ve had an easier time dealing with humans that fell to the Underground. But the payoff would not have been worth it, I think.  _

_ In order to avoid this, and as an alternative or a supplement to prisons, we at times employ a practice called ‘warding.’ Someone who is at risk becomes the ward of a noble, who is better trained in magic than the average citizen. It is not unlike human probation, though they are much more closely monitored- sometimes they even live with their assigned monster- and must take directions. Those who have wards are partially liable for what their wards do. I had a ward once, before I was married. In some dimensions where I split with my wife, I took him back on.  _

_ Most nobles have the authority to declare a monster unfit, and- _

_. . . _

_ -act.  _

_ F~~~, even now I’m resorting to euphemisms.  _

_ Humans will probably be outraged that such power is put into hands without popular consensus, but, since we can read each others’ general intentions through magic, we both have a good sense of whom we’re dealing with,  _ **_and_ ** _ nobles keep careful tabs on each other.  _

_ Some universes have long since abandoned giving nobles such leeway. Other Doctors and I are constantly comparing notes. I’m told Doctor Number 4’s world has considered reinstating it based on a very particular case involving- _

_. . . _

_. . . _

_ . . . I don’t like to think about it.  _ __   
  


_ Nobles, under the direction and encouragement of Asgore, have retained and improved intelligence. His library and classes have always been open to the public, too; however, again, when you’re depressed, your curiosity tends to wither.  _

_ Mentally, our class divides are steeper, though for the most part, not as antagonistic. It has happened through plain societal deterioration due to our confinement, not through active exclusion by Asgore and our upper class. How do I explain that? Stating the facts without sounding like I’m aggressively assigning blame? Will humans even believe me? _

_ Or will I just be another lying politician in their eyes . . . _

_ Just like they see him as a tyrant king.  _ __   
_   
_ __ I mean h~~~. Asgore and others are immortal. That in itself adds another layer on the degree of mental differences. The word ‘paternal’ comes to mind, though many see it as ‘patronizing.’ But, most monsters really do see him as a father type to the collective, and his immediate circle as well. Authoritative. But benevolent. Humans who are oppressed by their upper class- they see our social norms we take for granted as heinously unbalanced. 

_ Power corrupts, but that only flourishes if it becomes systematic. How do I convince humans that we do indeed keep each other accountable? That this is not the same as abuse of power in their upper ranks? Ugh. Maybe I should just abandon this project. I already have enough to deal with. No . . . Toriel, you and I have got a lot of work on our hands . . . you’re better at explaining than I am. Your mental modeling skills are unparalleled, as well as your translation of concepts . . . I’m going to stick to the science and let you take the lead on this. When it comes to politics, I’m of course always willing to help, but you’re the main authority there, even over and above Asgore, unofficially speaking. If anyone can navigate this, it’s you.  _


End file.
